Shadows of Yesterday
by snuggalong
Summary: One year after Mariemaia, Duo Maxwell is living alone on L2, all but forgotten, until the day a life-changing letter arrives. He vanishes, and a year later rumors of a new Preventer's division arrise - the Shadows, their leader known only as 'Shinigami...' -Rated for language, violence, and other themes of a darker nature-
1. 00: You've Got Mail

**Shadows of Yesterday**

* * *

PROLOGUE: YOU'VE GOT MAIL

* * *

The first thing he noticed upon stepping out of his apartment was that it was in fact, despite the assurances of the piece of crap he called a television, raining.

Again.

"Fuck! They said it was goin' ta be fuckin' clear today—I thought they fuckin' fixed the goddamn controls, finally! Fuck!"

Such was the tirade of curses currently pouring out of his mouth as he hurriedly retreated backwards into the relative safety of his home, to grab the umbrella sitting beside the door.

He looked at it with a forlorn expression, and it stared back unsympathetically. "Looks like it's just you and me again, buddy."

Moments later he was once again outside, this time with the umbrella held firmly above his head as he moved as fast as he dared down the slick sidewalk. He stared distantly at the upside down horizon, curving upwards in the distance.

"Fuck, I wish it wasn't such a goddamn chore ta get the mail every day...would it be such a bother ta install mailboxes in front of the buildin'? I don't know why I even bother anymore...not like I'll get any mail..."

He refused to acknowledge the small part of his brain that was telling him that he did, indeed, know why he checked the mail every day. A small part of him still held the hope they they—that anyone—would remember his existence.

He snorted. "Yeah fuckin' right. Like they'll ever remember. I was just the fuckin' annoyin' one who happened ta fight beside them for—oh yeah, _two_ fuckin' wars! You'd think that'd deserve somethin', hell, even an email askin' "you doin' okay?" would be welcome! Well, fuck them. I've got my own life, I don't depend on them..."

_Denialllll_, his subconscious sang, before retreating with an undignified squeal as he backhanded it back into whatever abyss it came from.

He sped up as the post office finally came into view, the light at the end of a long, dark, wet tunnel.

He burst into the building with all the grace of an elephant, shaking water like a dog as he did so. Looking behind him, he realized with a sense of resignation that he would have to wring out his hair.

Again.

The boy manning the desk looked up, and a teasing light came into his eyes. "Hey, I just washed those floors, ya bastard!"

He looked up, grinning as well as he shook off the umbrella. "Aww, fuck off Seth! You and I both know ya haven't washed anythin' in your entire life! 'Sides, not like ya got anything else ta do all day!"

The other shook his head. "Still don't know why I haven't just kicked ya ta the curb and told ya ta never come back..."

"Because you loovvveee meee," he said in an exaggerated tone, spreading his arms as if to hug the other—even though he was still fifteen feet away. "And we both know that ya have the best post office this side of L2!"

"Oh yeah, that's right...hey, wait! I'm the only post office this side of L2!"

He laughed good naturedly as he walked up to lean against the counter. "So, Seth, love of my life and keeper of my mail—has anythin' changed from yesterday, or will we yet again part in the throes of heartache, pinin' for what we cannot have, until tomorrow when we do this all again?"

The boy laughed. "Well, let's see...considering how little mail actually comes through here..." he began to sort through the stack of envelopes sitting in front of him. "Martin...nope...Brayer...nope...Skinner...nope...Lafayette...nope..."

"Seth, ya know my fuckin' name! Is it so hard ta look for—"

"Aha! Well, my braided friend, it appears this is your lucky day—" He switched to a robotic voice, reminiscent of an email program from the days before the colonies. "You've Got Mail!"

His head snapped up. "You're fuckin' kiddin' me. I've actually got mail?"

Seth nodded, waving the envelope underneath his nose—he snatched it quickly.

"Looks important, too..."

He nodded distractedly, taking in the large brown envelope with the address in a neat little typed window, and a seal in the corner—a green hexagon with the letter P.

"Hey, thanks for this, Seth. See ya tomorrow, right?"

"Wha—aren't ya gonna open it?"

"Like ya said, looks important. What if it blows up in my face 'cause I open in front of ya, mailboy?"

"All right, all right, go! But ya better tell me what's in it tomorrow, ya hear?"

"I hear, I hear!" he called back as he began to walk out. With a casual wave of his hand, he was gone, leaving Seth to laugh at the man he considered his friend—not knowing that it was the last time he would ever see him.

* * *

He walked down the street in deep contemplation—it had miraculously stopped raining—staring at the envelope in his hands as though it held all the answers to the universe.

"What the fuck do Preventers want with my scrawny ass?" he muttered, barely looking up as he unlocked the door to his apartment and closed it behind him. 'Well, only one way ta find out..."

He tore the envelope open, yanking out what appeared to be an official looking letter—and a shuttle ticket.

Scanning the top of the letter, he let out a low whistle. "From the desk of...fuck, the Dragon Lady herself? Last I heard she still wanted my head on a stick and my entrails on a silver platter. Why's she contactin' me now...?"

He finally got to the actual letter. "Dear Mr...blah, de blah, de blah, pleasantries, c'mon bitch we both know ya hate me, get ta the fuckin' point...hold it, what?"

His eyes backtracked, rereading the sentence that he was quite sure he'd read wrong. It was correct. "My own fuckin'...division? Black fuckin' _ops_?"

'_Would like to discuss this offer with you in person, at your earliest possible convenience—this is a great opportunity, for both you and the Preventer's organization...'_

He looked down at the shuttle ticket in his hand, noting that it was blank—he set the date—and round trip. "Shit. First mail in fuckin' months and its Dragon Lady come ta screw with my head..."

But then he got around to actually considering what the letter said. It was, if nothing else...a very interesting offer.

_Oh, understatement of the century_, _idiot,_ his subconscious supplied helpfully, back from the dark abyss—and quickly shoved back over the edge, screaming all the way.

"Hmm...why fuckin' not? The very least, I get a free trip ta Earth and back...nothin' ta lose...right, where's that phone number?"

It was as he was dialing the phone number, waiting for it to pick up, and listening to an annoying secretary telling him to "please hold," that he looked out the only window in his apartment, towards the distant walls of the colony, imagining that he could see through them and space to the small green orb out in the middle of the blackness.

A slow smile spread across his face, violet eyes glowing with a dark light.

"Look out, Earthlin's. Shinigami is comin' home."

* * *

One word for you—whim. Absolute goddamn whim. I've told you all countless times how these absolutely random ideas sink their claws into my brain and won't. let. go!

Such is my life and writing. If I'm posting this, don't expect frequent updates. Whim, I tell you, WHIM!

GAH, GET OFF ME YOU STUPID PLOT BUNNIES!

Technically I have nothing to disclaim yet, but still—don't own anything you may or may not recognize. Except Seth. He's mine, keep your grubby paws off. Well actually, I don't particularly care if you take him—he needs another job besides mailboy, really.

Ciao.


	2. 01: What's in a Name?

**Shadows of Yesterday**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: WHAT'S IN A NAME?

* * *

It was official. Lady Une would never get her meeting with him, because if that little boy in the next aisle didn't _shut the fuck up_ within the next _ten seconds_, he was going to throw himself out the fucking airlock into the hard vacuum of deep space, _regulations be damned._

It had been three days since he received the letter from the Dragon Lady, and he had been quite busy since then, calling her and scheduling the meeting for that Friday—it was Tuesday, then—and then packing up what little he considered important in his apartment, paying rent, turning in his keys, and bidding a not-so-fond adieu to the craphole he called a neighborhood.

He didn't plan on coming back, ever, at least not to live there. He had a ticket to Earth, and even if this whole black-ops thing, whatever it was, didn't pan out, he had some savings that he could use to get a place there.

He would never set foot on L2 again, not if he could help it.

He couldn't help feeling a tiny bit guilty at leaving Seth behind without a word, the boy was kind to him and he considered him a friend, at least, but he would get over it, eventually. He didn't want any ties to the colony.

L2 wasn't his home, had never been even though he was born and raised there. Ever since he was young he'd had a feeling, a feeling that there was a place out there, an actual home, someplace he could belong.

It had probably just been the waning hopes of a dying street-rat, 'cause they were all fucking dying until the day they did or got out of that hellhole—usually the former.

He had found a home in Earth, though, the moment the cockpit of his Gundam opened and he felt real sunshine and breeze. It had killed him inside every time he took a space mission during the war, not wanting to leave Earth with its sun and rain and wind and oceans and huge blue sky behind.

Now he was going back to that home, or at least he would be if the little boy didn't fucking drive him to insanity and suicide before the flight was over.

After hearing him beg for candy for the _twelfth fucking time_, Duo finally turned around. "Ma'am," he said frigidly to the woman next to the boy, obviously his mother, who was reading a book. She looked up as he tapped her shoulder. "Could ya please get your son ta be quiet? He is disturbin' the other passengers."

The woman gave him a strange look, but turned to her son and said quietly, "Matthew, you need to be quiet. There are other people on the shuttle, and they need peace."

"But Maaa..." he whined, but she shushed him quite firmly before turning back to him. "I'm so very sorry, sir, I didn't realize he was still begging after the first time...you see I'm deaf, and I just sort of ignored his tugging on my sleeve."

He immediately felt guilt flush hot through his system. "I'm very sorry ma'am, I didn't realize..."

She waved him off with a laugh. "It's alright; hardly anyone does unless I tell them. Not your fault anyways—I told Matthew the first time that he couldn't have candy, he should have listened. He didn't bother you too badly, I hope?"

He noticed for the first time the slight skew to her words, as though she wasn't quite sure of the sounds she was making. "Not too badly," he agreed—not technically a lie, he supposed. "If ya don't mind me askin', how...?"

"Can I tell what you're saying? I've become an expert at lip-reading over the last few years, didn't want to rely on an interpreter. I'm afraid I was a little too close to a bomb during the war, even in a—poorly built—bomb shelter. My hearing started to go and eventually it went."

He would have replied again, but it was at that moment the captain came on and told them to buckle up and secure everything, as they were preparing for reentry. He turned back to the front with a wave and an apologetic smile, and she waved with a laugh before turning to secure her son.

Looking out the window, he caught a glimpse of the ocean beneath him before everything started to burn red with reentry.

Fifteen minutes later they were on the ground and docked, and he grabbed his duffel—his only luggage—before heading off the shuttle and into the terminal. He looked around for anyone who looked all stuffy and official looking (or wearing a Preventer's uniform), but not seeing anyone, decided to lean against a wall and wait.

That plan was spoiled by the appearance of the woman from the plane, her son in tow. "Hey! I just wanted to say thanks...it's still hard getting used to being deaf, even after four years..."

He laughed. "Not a problem, ma'am. Glad ta be of service."

She grinned. "Well, the name's Kelly McManus, and you've already met Matthew—oh my, we've got to get to our next flight!"

He waved her off with a laugh. "Go! I don't want ta keep ya!"

She smiled and waved as she took her son away. "Look us up if you're ever near Seattle!"

He raised a hand in acknowledgement, and she finally vanished into the crowds.

When she finally realized she had never asked the kind man his name, she looked back to find him already gone.

"Mama? Candy?" Matthew asked.

* * *

"It's about fuckin' time," he muttered as he finally spotted a Preventer's agent (in full uniform, fucking pretentious Une) in the crowd of people in the waiting area, obviously looking for him.

He grinned slightly, before sneaking around to the back of the crowd and up behind the agent. He crossed his arms and settled into a relaxed position before drawling, "Une really needs ta train her agents better. In keepin' track of their surroundin's and people identification."

As expected, the agent jumped before whirling around in shock. The man stared for a moment—he knew, he was quite the...odd...figure—before regaining his composure. He gave him points for swift recovery.

"You're the one Une sent me to retrieve?"

"That would be me," he drawled in a sarcastic tone. "Unless ya see anyone _else_ with a fuckin' knee-length braid around."

To his credit, the agent didn't blink—at his accent, his language, or his braid, which he hadn't noticed before.

"I am Agent Helix, I am to bring you to Preventer's Headquarters to meet with Lady Une."

"Oh, really? I thought ya were here ta sweep me up on your white horse and ride off into the sunset for our happily ever after. Right, silly me, that's _next_ month."

Agent Helix merely rolled his eyes before turning and walking away, giving a hand gesture that obviously meant, 'follow me.'

He decided that he liked Agent Helix.

* * *

The drive to headquarters was spent with him asking Agent Helix questions about pretty much anything and everything they saw—hey, it had been a long time since he was on Earth, the last time was for another war, and he had never been to Sanq except in battle!

Again to his credit, Agent Helix kept any eye-rolling and sarcastic comments to himself, merely answering the questions—usually with interesting little tidbits that he knew he wouldn't find in any guidebooks.

"So," he said, about twenty minutes into the drive. "I can't exactly keep callin' ya Agent or Helix or Agent Helix—well, I suppose I could but that's fuckin' borin'. So what's your name?"

He was silent for so long that he finally up and said, "Hey, it's okay if you're not allowed ta tell—"

Agent Helix shook his head. "It's not that. You're just very different from the usual people I'm sent to pick up, when I am sent. They're usually stuffy old politicians who—pardon my language—wouldn't know sarcasm, or heaven forbid, an actual name if it bit them on the ass. It's always, "Your Highness," "Your Excellency," "Your Grace."

He grinned. "Sucks for you. So again, man-who-is-never-called-by-his-name; what's your name?"

"Sam," the other replied with another grin. "Sam Tahary."

"And I am Bond," he quipped. "James Bond."

The both broke down laughing hysterically, and he decided that he really did like Agent—whoops, Sam.

* * *

Eventually they made it to the Preventer's Headquarters—with Sam dragging him quickly through the lobby after the security checkpoint as he began to laugh hysterically, scaring some of the agents in the lobby.

"What the hell was that for?" Sam hissed once they were finally in the elevator, on the way up to Une's office.

"I saw...a fuckin' marble...dragon..." he bit out between bouts of laughter. Sam only looked for confused, so he elaborated. "My nickname for Une is the Dragon Lady."

Sam started laughing too, and they were still laughing when the doors opened onto the reception area for Une's office, scaring the secretary who was there.

"Agent Helix..." Sam choked out as they approached the desk, trying to hold in his laughter. "Bringing..."

Suddenly he frowned, turning to look at his companion. "I just realized...I don't know your name."

"Ya mean Une never told ya?"

He shook his head. "She just told me, 'Look for the guy with the braid.'"

He grinned. "Apt description, yes?" Then he turned to the secretary. "Une's not in her office, right? Then we'll just wait in there for her, thanks a lot!"

With that he turned and entered the Dragon's Lair, dragging Sam behind him even as he—and the secretary—sputtered.

"What are you doing? We can't just burst into Lady Une's office!"

"Maybe _you_ can't, but I can! Hell, she'd have a fuckin' heart attack if she didn't come up here and find me in her office already!"

"Just who the hell _are_ you? You're a guy, but you have a knee-length braid and purple eyes, you apparently know Une very well, and you have no problem with antagonizing her—"

Any further questions were cut off as the Dragon Lady herself blew into the office with a grace and fury reminiscent of her namesake, trademark buns flying.

"Duo Maxwell, can't you go five damn minutes in this building without terrorizing my agents or my secretaries?"

"Lovely ta see you too, m'lady," Duo quipped, while Sam gaped.

Such is the effect of Duo Maxwell, Gundam Pilot 02 and sarcasm extraordinaire, on the general populace.

* * *

Well, I must be in a very good mood today. Two chapters of a legitimate—as in, one story line—multichapter story! Call the press! Yeah, they're short, but they'll get longer...eventually...

As you can see, I purposely did not name our lovely main character until this moment, and unfortunately had to cut out some lovely lines because of that. But now he's been revealed, and his sarcasm can continue in all its glory! 'Sides, not that you all didn't know who he was in the first place.

Not so much swearing, either. I think I wore myself out with the prologue. I'm not a swearing person, really, except under my breath...-muttermuttermutter- Sorry for all the OC's. Kelly and Matthew, like Seth, will probably not appear again, unless they're needed. Sam, however, will be part of this...yeah, this story has some direction now!

I disclaim anything you recognize as not belonging to me.

Ciao.


	3. 02: Something Unique to Offer

**Shadows of Yesterday**

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: SOMETHING UNIQUE TO OFFER

* * *

"You...you...you're...Maxwell...Gundam pilot...god fucking damnit!...fuck...fuck, _fuck._"

Duo, who had at first been amused at Sam's pale face and incoherent stuttering, was now rather worried. He liked Sam quite a bit, and didn't want to lose him as a potential friend. What if he was one of those people who hated Gundam pilots?

Une took care of that for him. "Helix!" she barked, and Sam instantly snapped to attention out of reflex, before paling again, a horrified look on his face.

"Shit...Lady Une, I apologize most sincerely for my rude behavior—"

"Shut up, Tahary," she snapped, causing him to gape again. "Now, as you are aware, Mr. Maxwell here—"

"Duo," he cut in, causing her to look at him. "What? Mr. Maxwell makes me feel old."

She rolled her eyes. "As I was saying, _Duo_ here is a Gundam pilot. Do you, Agent Helix, have any issues with this?"

He shook his head vehemently. "Of course not, Lady Une, it just came as a surprise because—"

"—ya expected a Gundam pilot ta be...older? Taller? Scarred? Bloodthirsty? A fuckin' monster? Dare I say it...less feminine?" Duo finished, a dark undertone in his voice. "Well, let's address that, shall we? We were all fifteen durin' the war, my growth is stunted from my childhood, I got plenty of scars, ya just can't see most of them, ya should have seen me durin' the war if ya want bloodthirsty, I don't think any of us were monsters, and if you fuckin' dare call me feminine, I will rip your fuckin' intestines out and shove them down your fuckin' throat!"

Sam stared at him, eyes wide. "Okay?" he squeaked—and something just broke inside of Duo. He doubled over in hysterical laughter, while Une simply buried her face in her hands. "I'm not paid nearly enough for this job," she muttered.

Eventually Duo gained control of his laughter, and reached up to clap Sam on the shoulder. "Sorry 'bout that, man, but I've just had way too many...unpleasant reactions...ta my Gundam pilotness."

"Sure..." Sam muttered, still looking dumbfounded. "Gundam pilotness?" he asked.

Lady Une finally decided that this would be a good time to cut in, before the situation became any more unsalvageable.

She coughed rather forcefully, causing both men to look up at her with deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces.

"Gentlemen," she said. "I'm sure you can settle this later, outside of my office. But for right now, I've called Mr. Max—_Duo _here for a reason. Agent Helix, you can—"

But she stopped there, a contemplative look suddenly coming into her eyes. They got along so well already, that could work to their advantage..."Actually, Tahary, you can stay. Sit, both of you."

They sat, Sam more nervously than the other, because Une never called agents by their real names, last or otherwise, unless it was personal or...off the books. This definitely wasn't personal.

"So, Duo, I presume you have some idea of why you're here?"

He snorted. "Fuckin' understatement of the century, ta quote my subconscious, Une. Honestly! Who the fuck puts an offer like that in a fuckin' _letter_?"

Both Une and Sam looked at him a bit strangely, before Une spoke again. "I do, Duo...and I assure you, before you ask, that I am completely serious in said offer."

Sam was looking lost, but wisely chose to just listen.

Duo, for his part, merely stared at Une, and she would never admit that that stare unnerved her quite a bit, for his eyes were completely unreadable at that moment. Just when she was about to speak again, he uttered one word.

"Why."

It was a statement, not a question, and she knew exactly what it implied. Duo and Sam thus bore witness to a rare phenomena—Lady Une struggling for words.

"I understand if you...dislike me, Duo—"

He snorted, muttering "Understatement," again. She sighed.

"Very well, I understand that you hate me, and I also understand your reasoning for it. We don't exactly have the best track record of cordial, peaceful meetings, do we?"

Seeing Sam's look, Duo told him, "The first time we met outside of war, I freaked, reached for a gun I didn't have, and ended up chuckin' a stapler at her and bein' detained by four really fuckin' big guards while they tried ta determine whether or not I was "a threat ta her Ladyship."

"Believe or not, when I finally got home that night, I laughed until I cried, Duo," Une said, causing him to stared at her. "Yes, really," she continued. "You are one of the few people who have ever treated me like a normal human being who wasn't anything special. But know this—if you ever call me "her Ladyship" again, yourself or in quote, I will...how do you say? Rip your intestines out and shove them down your throat?"

Deer-in-headlights—need I say more?

"Right. Anyways, as I was saying, I was completely and utterly serious in offering a semi-autonomous black-ops Preventer's division to you for leadership and running."

Now Sam was mostly alone in his gaping like a fish, though not completely. For Duo, it hadn't really sunk in until the Lady actually said it.

"So ya weren't jokin'," he finally said, weakly.

"No, I wasn't."

"And I reiterate—_why me_? Why not one of the other pilots? Why not one of your golden Preventer boys, Heero or Wufei? Why not Trowa, I hear he does some missions sometimes? I understand Quatre...but why _me_?"

She smiled, a shark smile that scared boy Duo and Sam more than they cared to admit, before letting it relax into something more gentle.

"Because as good as they are, they aren't you, Duo. I studied your profile extensively during the war, wanting to find out how someone...well, someone like you could have been a pilot."

Seeing him beginning to get angry, she held up her hand. "One of the things I have always prided myself on, Duo, was my ability to see through people, no matter the mask they wore. And after reading through your profile, your history, and looking at your picture, I realized that _you_ wore a mask. I had no idea what it was, why you had it, or what it was hiding, only that it was there. But it made me understand you more. I assume you remember my...personality issues?"

He stopped gaping enough to nod. "Fuck yes. That was actually just what made ya so...scary, ta me. And before I knew what it was, what made me hate ya. One day ya were blowin' things up, next ya were talkin' peace."

She merely shook her head. "Yes, well, in any case, what I'm trying to say here Duo is, you possess something the others don't. Call it a...presence, if you will. But not only that, you have the skill to be what I need for this division. When I say black-ops I don't mean your usual undercover, hush-hush missions. I mean complete and utter secrecy. The missions this division will take will the deepest, the darkest, the most difficult. The top-secret, never breathe a word, no names and no faces type. The kind where no one lives through seeing one of you; I assume you understand that."

He nodded, remembering how during the war hardly anyone survived seeing a Gundam, or its pilot.

Sam was watching all of this with a growing sense of trepidation. Just where did he fit in all of this?

"That is you, Duo. If there is one thing I remember about you during the war, it was your ability to blend into the shadows, to go anywhere and everywhere unseen. You have the greatest stealth skills I have ever seen in anyone. You also have experience with the world—you know the way the world works, both in the shadows and in the light, cliché as it may sound. You can skillfully walk the line between them, no matter how blurred it may become sometimes. You can work with anyone, no matter what walk of life they come from, talk to someone for five minutes and have a new best friend—" Here she smiled wryly at Sam. "—In short, you have the ability to take this division and make it grow, make it far greater than anything I could imagine—and the outside world would never know a thing."

She stopped to breathe, analyzing the expression on his face. She saw confusion, trepidation, disbelief...but determination and a strange sort of hope, as well.

"Lady Une," Sam began, seeing Duo still caught in a war with himself. "If you don't mind me asking...what does this have to do with me?"

"I don't mind at all, Tahary, you have every right to ask. In answer to your question...well you heard me when I talked about Duo's ability to work with people, and you've experienced it first-hand, haven't you?"

He nodded.

"I had never intended for Duo to start this alone...and I was having difficulty finding someone else with the ability to do this; so, if you'll do it, you will be the co-commander of this new division, however it works out."

Sam gaped, again, his brain barely processing what he was being told. He was just a desk jockey, with hardly any field experience, barely out of college and with no real knowledge of the world. How on Earth could he offer anything?

Seeing his expression, Une merely said. "He brings experience and weariness. You bring innocence."

She didn't need to elaborate.

While all of this was going on, however, Duo was fighting a war in his head. He honestly didn't know what to say to Une. The large part of him...wanted to say yes. He had nothing waiting for him, nothing at all. No friends, no family, no lover, no home. Hilde was married, and what would he do if he went to her? Sit on his but all day at some 9 to 5 job?

If he was honest with himself...something like this is what he had been waiting for, the last year. He just wasn't cut out for peace. All his life he'd been fighting, in one way or another, and now that there was nothing left to fight for, now that there was peace, he had nothing to live for. He was restless, useless—his only real friend until a few hours ago was a mailboy.

A smaller part wanted to say no. That was the part that still hoped beyond hope that the others would remember, would care enough to remember. But that part grew smaller with each day that passed...and he knew it would not win, not this fight.

Finally, he spoke.

"You really think I can do this," he said.

"Yes," Une replied, firmly.

"You really think I _should_ do this."

"Yes."

"You really want _me_ ta do this, along with Sam."

"Yes."

"It is our choice who is brought into this division."

"Yes."

"The division is ours ta shape as we see fit—trainin', agents, mission, etc. "

"Yes...though I'd like to be informed, and have some say."

"Sure. It will be completely secret from the outside world, and if necessary, the only information given to normal Preventer's will be that we exist, and ta politicians and such, our existence and basic purpose."

"Yes."

"And...the other pilots will not have any part of this, and if they ever ask...no one knows where I am."

"...yes."

"Sam?"

The other looked up, seeing the question in Duo's eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Yes. I want to do this. I've only ever been a desk jockey, a nobody...but somehow, I think this is what I'm supposed to do."

Duo gave him one last measuring look, before standing and reaching his hand out towards Une. She grasped it, giving it a firm shake.

"You've got yourself a deal, Lady Une."

Sam too shook her hand, echoing Duo.

She grinned that shark smile again, sharper than before—and this time, they did it too.

"Very well. Welcome aboard...Commander Maxwell, Commander Tahary."

* * *

Three chapters in one day. Something must be seriously wrong—or seriously right—with me.

Well, the big plot has been revealed, and I hope you enjoyed it. Now you know Sam's part in the story, and don't worry, his character will develop more as the story goes on. Please tell me if you think I'm going too fast. I'm trying to pace it, but this story is far too much fun. I think the pacing is going well, though—prologue, you know something is going down, first chapter a little more insight on history and bit more of what's actually going on, second chapter the big point.

I also received a good question from a reviewer—what about the other pilots?

My answer went a bit like this—they are part of the story, a big part, but later. A major plot point in this story is the distance between Duo and the other pilots. There will likely be an interlude in a few chapters going to them for a bit, but their actual presence in the story, as in interaction with Duo, Sam, and the as of yet unformed division, won't be for a while yet. Never fear, though—they will appear!

Next chapter I will officially inform you of warnings, any possible pairings, etc. In the meantime, since I will be trying to slow down updates _just a bit, _read and review! I really need some critique on this—my email informs me every time one of you favorites, alerts, and _reviews_, so I know exactly how many people are not reviewing! Mostly.

I disclaim anything you recognize as not belonging to me.

Ciao!


	4. 03: It's Been an Honor

**Shadows of Yesterday**

* * *

CHAPTER THREE: IT'S BEEN AN HONOR

* * *

Unfortunately, forming a top-secret hush-hush black-ops division is easier said than done.

Duo and Sam had been quick to commandeer a conference room, and after fifteen minutes of laughter, rolling wheels, running footsteps and shouts of, "Faster, Tahary! They're after us!" they had half a dozen white boards arranged around the edge of the room, along with a generous supply of markers.

Things went to hell in a hand basket the moment Duo discovered that the markers were scented.

That was an hour ago, and Sam was now sitting in the center of the conference table, eyes wide, watching as Duo put the finishing touches on a six-board mural of...actually, he wasn't quite sure what it was, as Duo was, unfortunately, not a possessor of great art skills.

He didn't even want to think about that blob that looked suspiciously like Treize Khushrenada in a tutu.

Coupled with the maniacal laughter bursting from Duo every few minutes or so, agents took great care to avoid Conference Room 1C that day...in fact, that entire hallway was suspiciously empty for several days afterwards.

This was the scene Une came upon when she finally dared to poke her head into the room, even with several agents trying to stop her...and some of the more religious ones crossing themselves when they couldn't.

"Tahary...do I really want to know?" she asked the man, unperturbed by the fact that he was sitting in the center of the table.

"No, m'lady, I don't think you do," he replied. "Anything in particular you needed to tell us?" he asked, watching Duo scribble the final touch onto his masterpiece—a scrawl that could have said Shinigami; he wasn't quite sure.

"Actually, yes. It seems I was correct in assuming that nothing would get done until you were actually given something that would help you be...productive, so I took the liberty of procuring said something."

Duo bounced over immediately. "Really? What'cha got? Is it more of these awesome markers? 'Cause these things are fuckin' awesome, except the licorice, but really—"

He continued to babble on, while Une looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow. "Did he by any chance have caffeine at any point?"

"No...I don't think—oh my."

"What?"

"I think there was a coffee scented marker..."

"Oh my, is correct...MAXWELL!"

He snapped to attention out of reflex, his mouth stilling. "Yes, Lady?" he asked meekly.

"If you don't calm down and actually get to work, I will make good on my earlier threat. Entrails and throat ring a bell?"

He nodded, the maniacal light already fading from his eyes.

"Now, I am having you two brought the files of every Preventer's agent in the organization. It is your job to decide who has the ability to be brought into a division such as the one you are forming. Choose wisely, and have a number in mind before you begin."

They both nodded, Sam having finally got off the table.

fShe began to leave. "The files will be here in a few minutes. Oh...and Duo?"

"Yes?"

"Have that mural cleaned up by the time they get here, and I might forget that you put his Excellency Treize in a tutu."

Wide-eyed, Duo swiftly set to cleaning the board, Sam helping him—he didn't want to lose his new friend to the wrath of Lady Une.

Ten minutes later, they had just cleaned the last bit of ink off the boards when there was a knock at the door. Sam went to open it, admitting a petite girl pushing a cart full of boxes taller than she was.

"Are you two the ones I was supposed to deliver these files to?" she asked, slightly out of breathe.

"Yeah, I think so," Sam replied, as Duo came over to peer at the cart.

"Is this it?" Duo asked. "Wow, that shouldn't take too long..."

The girl laughed. "Oh, no. There are about seven more just like that waiting to be delivered up—call down when you finish with this one and the next one will be sent."

She left, leaving two wide-eyed boys to stare after her.

Duo finally spoke. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"It's been an honor knowing you."

"Same here."

"On three?"

"On three."

"...three."

And so began the crusade against the paperwork.

* * *

Six hours later, had any agent dared to stick their head into Conference Room 1C, they would have thought they'd come upon a bomb-site.

Boxes were stacked everywhere, overflowing with files. Papers were scattered across the table, along with more of said files. Had they dared to look closer, however, they would have seen that it was an organized chaos. Eight carts were pushed against the wall, seven of them stacked neatly with closed boxes, the eighth with only two or three.

Dominating the room were six whiteboards, four of them covered in names, two of them holding lists and diagrams.

The two with lists and diagrams were labeled, "What we Want," and "What we don't Want," the latter having a far longer list.

Three of the others were labeled "Yes," which had what looked like forty names on it, "Maybe," which had about fifteen, and finally, "No," which took up the final two boards and had too many names to count.

And in the center of all this chaos were two boys, both looking to be about twenty years old, one with violet eyes and chestnut hair in a frayed-looking braid, another with shaggy black hair and brown eyes, both in heated discussion over one of the many files scattered across the table. They both looked like they had been there for hours, a fact attested to by the many cans and cups scattered around them, and what looked the remains of a meal from a fast-food place.

Their argument went something like this...

"Goddammit, Sam, it won't work! He's too unyieldin', too specialized—he's got the stealth skills, but he lacks everywhere else, and he won't be able ta be retrained!"

"But look at this! His ability with poisons—"

"—is mediocre at best, and won't amount ta anythin' in the actual field! Combinin' stealth with poisons usually requires blades or needles, or damn good infiltration skills, which he doesn't have! Look at this—his aim is terrible, he'd never get anyone with a poisoned blade, let alone a needle! Stealth isn't everythin'—they need ta be well-rounded, and combine other skills _with_ their stealth."

"...alright. His name goes on the 'no' board."

Duo buried his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh. After they had finally gotten down to the serious work, the last six hours had been the longest of his life. He and Sam had _very_ different ideas on what was needed in a prospective agent. So far the only things they had truly agreed on was that they needed stealth skills that were very good or could be retrained to a proper level, and that once they chose all the agents, all of them would _be_ completely retrained to be black-ops agents.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he finally said, voice weary. "I didn't mean ta snap at ya. We've been in here way too fuckin' long."

Sam sat down again, recapping the marker, and sighed too. "It's okay. I know. Seriously, what the hell made Une think that the two of us, two guys who are still practically kids, could do this?"

He shrugged. "She saw somethin' we didn't. I suppose we have ta trust her judgment."

Seth shrugged too. "Guess you're right. Well, I think that's another box," he continued, putting the latest file back together and stacking it back in the box beside the table. Seeing that it was now full, he closed it up and took it back to the cart, before returning with yet another box.

"Let's see," he said, fishing the first file out of the box. "Next up, Agent 01, also known as Heero Yuy—"

"No," Duo cut in, his voice cold and hard. Sam looked up, surprised at the tone.

"Why?" he asked, flipping the file open and thumbing through papers inside. "Look here—he's got decent stealth skills, and he's got pretty much a perfect track record with missions, he's genius-level with hacking and has great hand-to-hand skills, he's deadly accurate with a gun, hell this guy is like—"

"The perfect soldier," Duo finished in a tight, quiet voice. "No. He's not joinin'."

"Why the hell not, Duo?" Sam asked, getting frustrated. "What is your problem with...him..."

He paused, his voice trailing off as he reached a sheaf of papers at the end of the pile. He read the title of it and his eyes went wide, flicking to Duo across the table who had his head in his hands, eyes trained downward.

"Oh," he said softly. "All right. He'll go on the 'no' board. But one of these days...you really need to explain to me why you hate them so much, Duo."

Duo didn't reply, only continued staring at the table as Sam wrote the name on the board and placed the file in another empty box waiting to go back on the cart. They continued to go through the files for another hour, and when Duo took the ones for Wufei Chang and Trowa Barton and put them in the box without saying anything, writing their names on the board, Sam didn't say a word.

* * *

Une stood outside Conference Room 1C with a sense of trepidation, almost afraid of what she would find inside.

Eventually, though, she worked up the courage to open the door and step inside. What she found shocked her.

Eight carts were lines up against the wall, all of them filled almost to the top with boxes. Next to the carts were two whiteboards labeled "no," filled with what looked to be hundreds of names. Next to those was a single whiteboard that had been labeled maybe, which only had around twenty names—sixteen of them run through with a line of ink, four of them with stars next to them.

The fourth board was the one she was interested in—the one labeled 'yes,' which looked to have fifty names written on it in blue ink, with what looked to be the same number of files stacked beneath it.

She ignored the last two boards—just lists and diagrams—in favor of looking for the two boys who had been in here for the last eight hours.

What she saw made her smile. Seth was curled up in a ball on one of chairs, head resting on his knees, fast asleep. And Duo had his head pillowed on his arms, torso sprawled across the table, also asleep.

She shook her head, before heading over to the stack of files beneath the 'yes' board and grabbing some of them. She took a seat at the table and opened the first file, content to wait as it was only seven 'o' clock in the evening.

She was around three quarters of the way through the files, internally applauding the two of them—they had stuck notes into each file about why they chose each person—when the door banged open, admitting a harassed looking agent.

"Lady Une!" she yelped. "There you are! Quick, you have to get to Conference Room 3F! The L6-XZ789 delegates showed up unexpectedly, and they're refusing to leave until they talk to you—what happened in here?"

She had just then noticed the contents of the room—specifically, the dozens of file filled boxes and the two boys asleep on the table; actually, the formerly asleep boys, for her voice had served to wake them.

"Mm..whazzat?" Duo mumbled as he looked up, violet eyes still sleep hazed. "What on Earth..."

That was when he noticed where he was, and who was there. His eyes widened.

"Sam!" he yelped, reaching across the table to smack the other boy, who was just stirring. "Wake the fuck up! Une's here!"

"Huh?" Sam said intelligently, looking up, the side of his face patterned with his Preventer's jacket. His eyes widened too. "Oh, shit—we're so sorry, Lady Une, we didn't mean to fall asleep—"

She cut him off, her voice tinged with amusement. "It's all right, Tahary, at least you two finished what you were doing before you fell asleep. Now, I have to go, but I just wanted to tell you two good job on your choices. I didn't make it through all the files, but from what I've seen the rest of them should work very well."

Duo rubbed his eyes, still slightly dazed. "Huh, thanks Lady. I would have had a pretty big bone ta pick with ya otherwise, considerin' we spent the last eight hours in here, goin' through fuck knows how many files."

She shook her head exasperatedly. "Yes, well, good job. I suggest you boys go and get some actual sleep, though, on actual beds...because tomorrow you're going to have to start figuring out the rest of the details of your division, as well as start contacting these agents to meet them in person. They are stationed throughout the Sphere, you know."

They exchanged twin wide-eyed looks before letting their heads fall to the table, groaning.

"We're goin' ta need alcohol tonight, Sam," Duo moaned.

Sam only nodded, not trusting himself to speak intelligently at that moment.

"Lady Une," the girl who was still standing at the door said, sounding rather urgent. "Please...the L6 delegates..."

She looked up, slightly startled. "Oh, right! Well, I expect to see you two bright and early tomorrow, boys, try not to get too drunk, please?"

And with that she was gone, leaving the two dumbfounded boys behind.

"Did Lady Une just give us...permission to get drunk?" Sam asked.

"I think she did," Duo replied, just as shocked. "Hey, Sam, that reminds me...ya got a couch or somethin' I could crash on? I sold my apartment before I left L2 and my duffel bag which I'm currently not quite sure where it is is the only stuff I've got..."

"You mean the duffel bag over in the corner there?" Sam asked, pointing. "And yeah, sure, my couch is your couch for as long as you need. Least I can do, you know."

Duo nodded. "Thanks, man. All right, let's get the hell out of here before Une decides ta torture us with more paperwork..."

"Yeah," Sam agreed as they headed out of the room, careful to close and lock the door behind them. They didn't need some nosy agent coming in and finding out what they were up to.

The two of them visibly relaxed as they finally escaped the huge building, and Duo flung an arm across Sam's shoulders as they headed towards the parking lot.

"So, Sam, my good buddy, where's the best place around here ta get smashed?"

* * *

Just letting you know I do not in any way condone underage drinking, but a lot of countries have drinking ages of 18, this is how many years in the future, Duo is somewhere around 19, Sam 21 or 22, and I say they can legally drink in Sanq!

Anyways, yes, I know this chapter was rather boring, but you have to admit it was funny too! Duo with scented markers! And we got a bit of pilots, didn't we? I promised last chapter to tell about pairings and such this chapter, so here we go.

Pairings...I am not revealing. In fact, there probably won't be very many, if any at all, and if they're there they will be vague and backgroundish. A reviewer asked about yaoi—my answer is while I read it, I am incapable of writing it, and GW is the only series I would ever consider writing it for...so it's a big, gigantic MAYBEMOSTLIKELYNO.

WARNINGS: Well, language obviously, alcohol, violence, eventual angst, maybe romance/yaoi, and anything else I might think of.

Also, I edited the first three chapters minorly, nothing really big—little mistakes and such which I thank people for pointing out. I promised one reviewer a quick Duo's accent guide, because I now realize there are people reading for whom English is not their first language. "Ya" is you, "Ta" it to, "Da" was the, but has been removed, and any –ing endings are replaced with –in'. I thank everyone who has reviewed—maybe this will end up my first story with over 100 reviews!

I disclaim anything you recognize as not belonging to me.

Ciao!


	5. 04: The Words We Need to Hear

**Shadows of Yesterday**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR: THE WORDS WE NEED TO HEAR

* * *

The two were indeed at Preventer's Headquarters bright and early the next morning, through sheer force of will and the miraculous power of ice cold water and heaping amounts of coffee, and a damn _loud_ alarm clock.

Lady Une opened the door to the conference room the next morning to discover Sam; bright, cheery, and awake, and Duo; flopped onto the table with his hands clutching his head, occasionally looking up to send death glares reminiscent of a certain blue-eyed pilot at the other man.

"What on Earth is wrong with you, Duo?" she asked as she watched him shy away from the brighter light in the hallway with a hiss.

He groaned, and pointed at Sam. "Tahary. Speak words."

Sam looked at her with a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, m'lady, that is unfortunately a long, harrowing tale that would take me forever a day to tell in its entirety, but the short version is this—I can hold my liquor. Duo can't."

Duo hissed again. "Tahary, stop speakin' words. I can too, ya bastard!"

He winced at the pain of speaking too much.

"Uh-huh. And just who is the one cowering away from the light, with a headache the size of Mount Everest?"

"Shut _up, _Tahary."

"Shutting up."

Une watched all of this with an amused grin on her face. "Glad to see you boys getting along so well. With Duo in the state that he is, however, you're very lucky that the only agents you'll be seeing today will be the ones you chose that work on _this_ base, which I think amounts to...seven people. Two are out on missions and won't be back until next week, so you only have to interview five people."

Duo looked up, eyes wide. "Interview?" he asked.

"Yes. You didn't think you could just choose based on a file and be done with it, did you? There are things you can learn only by meeting someone in person."

Duo looked over at Sam, who had the same look on his face. "Who did we put on that 'maybe,' list again, Sam?"

Sam only blinked, and Une sighed. "Well, I've already contacted the five of them—the first will be here at 10."

They looked at the clock. It was 8:30.

"So you boys have an hour and a half to start figuring out the other details of your division—name, training, team structure, etc. You might also want to figure out what you're going to ask your candidates...I suggest you get to work."

And with that she left, buns swinging behind here, leaving them to stare after her.

Duo dropped his head into his hands. "We're goin' ta dieeee," he moaned.

* * *

An hour later found things going much better than they had the day before, all things considered.

Une had hid all the scented markers in the building—actually, all of the markers in the building—and so Duo could not repeat yesterday's...events.

He had pouted for about ten minutes—murals were _fun_, especially when you had no artistic abilities whatsoever—before they got down to business.

They had actually hammered out a lot of the details, and were now going over them to make sure they didn't make a mistake that would mess them up later.

"...okay, so if there's fifty people, after retraining they will be split into ten teams of five—"

"—and durin' retrainin' each person will be required ta specialize in two skills. Because of the two specialties, we can group them ta have specialized teams as a whole, like a team that specializes in infiltration—"

"—but because of their secondary specialties they will also be well rounded—an infiltration team could also have a medic, a weapons expert, etc."

"Right. And if we put together everythin' on the "What we Want" list along with the list of things they should be trained in, and consider how trained all the candidates already are—"

"—the projected retraining time is...six months."

"Fuck."

Duo sat back and rubbed his hands over his face wearily. The hangover had been rather easy to ignore once they got down to work, but the work was just making his headache worse.

They had decided to start from the difficult and work their way down—so they started with the retraining program.

It wasn't working out. No matter how many times they recalculated, factoring in how many people needed to be retrained in each required area, or to simply brush up because it was their specialty, taking out time for people who were already masters of a certain area, cutting down the preferred amount of time for retraining in each skill—they could not get the total to anywhere decently beneath six months without losing skill and efficiency.

That was without adding in the fact the two of them were just that—the two of them. Outside help was needed if they were going to be retraining fifty people—probably including themselves—to be top-notch black-ops agents.

Question; who was good enough to train said fifty people to said caliber, and be trusted not to blab their secrets to the world?

His mind was going in circles and by the looks of things, Sam wasn't doing much better.

"We're screwed, aren't we?" Sam asked.

Duo frowned. "Not quite," he replied, thoughtfully. "Une had ta have known we would run up against these problems, especially the one with who the hell is goin' ta retrain fifty people—either she has a solution, or the solution is so fuckin' obvious we're just not seein' it."

Then his eyes widened. "Oh hell ta the _fuck no,_" he snarled, slamming his hands on the table as he stood violently. "She fuckin' _wouldn't_. Not after I fuckin' specifically said—"

He let the sentence trail as he stormed out of the room, and Sam did the only thing he could—he followed, wondering what the hell could get Duo in such a state. What leaps had his mind made? Who would Une trust to have the skill retrain fifty people and keep it secret—oh.

_Oh, shit_, he thought, quite succinctly, and hurried after Duo as fast as he dared, now knowing that the man was quite justified in his anger—if what they were thinking was correct.

He hoped to every single God he knew of that they weren't. He didn't want to be Une if they were and Duo got to her.

* * *

Une was quite calmly—a fact she was rather proud of—filling out some paperwork when her door slammed open with a crack like a gunshot, admitting one Duo Maxwell in a fury the likes of which she had never seen him in—a fact demonstrated by his L2 accent, now coming out in such force that she could barely understand him.

"Lady Une**, **_what da fuck are ya playin' at?_"

Alarmed, she tried to cut in, but her efforts were in vain. "Duo—"

"Afta I fuckin' _specifically told ya_, dat dey were_ not ta be involved, _ya fuckin' go behind my back and _do it anyways._"

Sam came in behind Duo then, looking rather helpless, but he had a hint of the same anger in his eyes. She knew she wouldn't get any help from him.

"Duo, what are you—" again, Duo just plowed right through her, his speech degenerating even more.

"Was dat yer fuckin' plan from da beginnin'? Yer da one who fuckin' wanted me ta run dis fuckin' division, me and Sam—so where da hell do ya get off choosin' _them_?"

He spat the last word like it was the foulest word he had ever heard of, and Une would have felt truly sorry for whoever it was that had incurred such wrath from him—had she any idea what he was talking about.

He continued to rant, but she could no longer for the life of her understand him. When she was quite sure questions of her lineage and insults towards Treize had somehow made their way in, she did the only thing she could—

She shouted at the top of her lungs.

"DUO MAXWELL, IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP, CALM DOWN, AND TELL ME WHAT THE HELL YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, I WILL CUT OFF YOUR GODDAMNED BRAID AND _MAKE YOU EAT IT!_"

He miraculously fell silent, staring at her with wide eyes. Sam, behind him, was just as shocked.

"Now," she continued, voice completely level. "Why don't you two sit, and Duo, why don't you tell me exactly _why_ you felt it necessary to barge into my office—ten minutes before your first interview, I might add—and cuss me out, and Tahary, why you seem to agree with him?"

The tone of her voice told them that it was not a suggestion.

They sat.

"Tahary, you seem to be much calmer. Mind telling me what this is all about?"

He shifted nervously, looking sideways at Duo. "Umm...well...you see..."

"Spit it out, Tahary."

"Actually, I only have a vague idea of what's going on myself...but if Duo's right, then I think he's completely justified in his anger...I'll shut up now."

Duo sent him a look that said, _Thanks a lot,_ before sighing and looking at his hands.

"Okay," he said. "I'm calm. I think. Now, Lady Une, when you assigned us this division, you had to be aware that any agents we chose would likely have be retrained, either in part or for a small number, entirely."

It was a testament to how much he was controlling himself at that moment that there was not a hint of an accent in his voice, unlike a few minutes before.

She nodded. "Yes. I was well aware of that fact."

"You also had to be aware that the two of us alone would not be enough to accomplish that task."

Again, she nodded. "Yes—though I'm glad to see you don't seem to have such a high opinion of yourself as some people think you do, Duo."

Her attempt at humor fell flat as he continued, in a deadly even voice.

"Just who, Lady Une, were you planning on acquiring to accomplish that task?"

Her brow furrowed. "I was planning on bringing in several high profile, special agents—the only files you did not have access to—and a couple of experts not well known to the public, sworn to secrecy of course—"

Her eyes widened as she backtracked to the first part of that statement, the puzzle pieces suddenly falling into place.

"You thought I was going to bring in the other pilots," she said softly, and his silence—along with Sam's—was the answer she needed. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was—in the words of the man before her—going to need alcohol tonight.

"Despite what you may think Duo, I am the one that needs you, you and Sam, your expertise. What would I have to gain by going against your direct requests? You are, in essence, giving up your lives for this organization—the least I can do is comply with a few simple wishes. Besides, as I said, there were a few agents for whom you did not have access to their files. You had access to the files of the pilots who work for this organization."

He hung his head, and she saw a sheepish expression cross Sam's face.

"I'm sorry, Lady Une," he murmured. "It's just, they were the only people I could think of that you would trust to bring in, and—"

"You lost it," she finished. "Duo, why do you hate them so much?"

He was suddenly evasive, shifting, standing, laughing nervously. "Umm, yeah, sorry 'bout that, Lady Une, but you're right our first interview is like, right now and we'll just be goin' now, right Sam?"

He grabbed the other's arm and started to drag him out, but Une's voice stopped him.

"Duo."

He stood in the doorway, refusing to look back at her. "They promised," he finally whispered, and then he was gone, Sam vanishing with him.

* * *

Sam didn't speak on the way back to the conference room, sensing that Duo needed some time with his thoughts. But that didn't stop his own from whirling chaotically.

'_They promised.'_

Duo's voice had been so soft, so pained, so empty. What on earth could the other pilots have done that would cause him so much pain, so much hatred?

That was the problem, as well. Sam didn't think that Duo hated them—there had been no anger, no condemnation. Only sadness.

Duo's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"So, Sam," he said, sounding completely normal. Sam was confused—and slightly sad—but decided to just let it go. He nodded to tell Duo to go on.

"...do ya have any idea what we're supposed ta ask these people?"

Sam blinked. And then groaned. Loudly.

Reiterate: "We're going to dieeee."

* * *

The first man ended up being slightly late, so they had about three minutes to hash out a basic plan of what they were going to do. It was still crap, and they would likely be making most of it up on the fly, but at least they had something.

Unfortunately, that plan flew out the window the moment said first man walked in an immaculate business suit, briefcase in hand, expression polished. His brown hair was slicked back, though blue eyes betrayed a slight nervousness.

They exchanged glances that quite clearly said, _Shit._

What the hell had Une told these people?

The man stood there looking between the two of them, looking quite confused. "Umm..." he said. "Am I in the wrong place? I was told to report to Conference Room 1C at 10 for an interview with...Commander Maxwell and Commander Tahary?"

The two finally broke off from "look swearing," to turn back to the man. Sam decided to speak up first, going for slightly formal.

"No, no," he said. "You're in the right place. But pardon me for asking—what exactly did Une tell you you were being interviewed for?"

The man shifted nervously, still standing. "She didn't say much...only that it was an interview for an extremely lucrative job offer that was being made in complete secrecy."

Duo facepalmed. _Trust Une to make our job harder...well, guess we'll just have to go with it._

"Alright," he spoke, startling the other two slightly. "Enough formal shit. I'm Commmander Maxwell, call me Duo, he's Commander Tahary ("Call me Sam,") and you're..."

He flicked open the file in front of him. "...Caleb Adara. Sit down man, we won't bite. Hard."

The man, now named Caleb, sat, more out of surprise than anything else. "You...you two are Commanders? But you can't be much more than—"

"Twenty?" Sam supplied helpfully. "Well, I don't know about that guy there, he's 19, poor young sap, but at least he can drink—not well, mind you—but I'm 22. Yet, Une made us Commanders. You going to question that?"

Caleb shook his head. "Nope, don't dare. Had too many run-ins with her scary side to question her. She made you Commanders, there must be a damn good reason. So...why am I here?"

The two exchanged looks again, this time fighting a silent war. Finally, Duo sighed and spoke.

"First things first, Caleb—how dedicated are ya ta Preventers?"

Caleb snorted, now looking much more comfortable and relaxed. "Are you kidding me? Preventers is basically the only life I have. If I didn't work here, I'd be out of my apartment and on the streets within a week. My paycheck barely covers rent, food, gas, and bills. You have my file—I'm sure you've seen all the overtime."

Duo made a noncommittal noise, giving the file to Sam for perusal. The other whistled as he looked at the mention page. "Overtime, indeed. Yet you are an extremely skilled agent, Caleb—why are you not better paid, if not in the field?"

Caleb flushed. "I'm afraid I was a bit of a...hotheaded rookie, in my early days. Made a couple of big mistakes, barely kept my job, got demoted and haven't been promoted since. I still keep my skills sharp, just in case...but I'm starting to think it's useless."

Another silent conversation of the eyes.

"Well, Sam, shall we break it down?"

"We shall, Duo."

"What we have here—"

"Is a man who lives for his work, as shitty as the job is—no offense, Caleb—"

"None taken."

"—and still goes above and beyond in the hopes of atoning for past mistakes. Crap, I feel cliché, but moving on—"

"—He has the potential ta be a great agent, trained properly—"

"—Has some useful specialties—knives and an uncanny ability to blend into a crowd, or any other setting—"

"—has a good personality, I might add—"

Caleb was looking back and forth between the two, who were speaking like a ping-pong ball. He had no idea where they were going with this, but somehow he had a good feeling.

The conversation—if you could call it that—finally seemed to be drawing to a close. He held his breath in anticipation.

"Well, Duo, I do believe he fits the profile. Not that we didn't already know that."

"Yes, I do believe he does."

"Final question, Caleb," Sam directed at him. "Do you have anything pressing tying you to the outside world?"

He shook his head. "My dad is dead, I don't know where my mom is, and I don't have any other family that I know of or a girlfriend. Not many friends, either."

They grinned at each other.

"Caleb, my man," Duo said, grinning widely. "You have said all of the magic words. And thus, we come to the point of this meeting. Oops, last question—can you keep a secret?"

He nodded.

"Right then. A few days ago I was called in by Une. She informed me of the comin' formation of a brand new, completely secret black-ops division of Preventers, of which she was offerin' me—and Sam—leadership of. We spent eight hours yesterday choosin' fifty agents from Preventers whom we thought could make it in such a division. You were one of them, and the question is—do you want ta join?

Caleb stared at them, blinking. Finally he spoke. "You two want _me, _to join a super secret, hush-hush black ops division?"

Sam nodded. "Yup."

"Only fifty agents...out of the entire organization..."

Duo nodded. "Uh-huh."

He shook his head before looking up with a determined look on his face.

"Where do I sign?"

* * *

Planned to go farther...actually, quite a bit farther, but decided that that was a good stopping place and to save the rest of the stuff I had planned for next chapter, because it probably would have been almost another chapter in itself. Longest one yet, though!

Sorry for the late—by the standards of this story so far—update. I started typing this the day after the last chapter, and kind of froze about a page in and by the time I went back to it, it was late and I needed sleep. Not that I got much. Today I have currently been awake for...19 hours straight, and am dang _exhausted_, but needed to get this done. So I hope you're all happy.

This actually flowed quite easily after the idea for Duo to get utterly pissed off at Une because of what he thought she had done came to me in a flash. Literally flash—one second I was like, "hnnnnn," the next, _typetypetypetypetype._ If you would like a translation of said rant, please ask in a review or pm, and I will provide. This AN is getting too long...

Last point, next chapter expect more interviews, one or two OC's, and a DAMN HUGE CLIFFHANGER in the form of several familiar canon characters, hinted at briefly in this chapter. Everyone please start suggesting canon characters I can bring into this—I need to stop using all my OCs! One or two more and the whole gang from my original fiction "Everything Left Unspoken," (based a bit on GW) will be here—Seth, Sam, Caleb, Max, and Theo!

I disclaim anything you recognize as not belonging to me.

Ciao!


	6. 05: UnFamiliar Faces

****

Shadows of Yesterday

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE: (UN)FAMILIAR FACES

* * *

After Caleb had left, Duo and Sam merely spent several minutes just staring at each other. Finally, Duo twitched—and they both broke down laughing, for reasons as of yet unknown.

"That," Duo gasped as he finally gained control of his laughter. "Went a lot better than expected."

"Can't agree more," Sam replied as he also gained control of his laughter. "Do you think they'll all be—"

He was cut off as Duo's hand abruptly covered his mouth, as the braided man shushed him. "Don't say it!" he hissed. "You'll jinx it!"

Sam nodded, wide eyed, and Duo removed his hand.

"So," he said conversationally, "Who's next?"

Sam leaned forward over the table, plucking a file from the stack sitting their. "Hmmm..." he murmured as he flipped it open. "Looks like it's a woman, and her name is..."

"Summer Hyden!" a voice from the doorway screeched, and both of them froze.

"Please don't tell me..." Duo whispered in horror, and Sam nodded, a similar expression on his face. "Oh god."

Slowly, ever so slowly, they turned to face the doorway. The sight that met them was just as terrible as they imagined.

Someone had obviously made a serious—actually, several serious errors with Summer's file. The woman in front of them was _nothing_ like the calm, smart, well-trained agent the file had portrayed Summer Hyden to be.

Her hair—brown in her ID photo—was a bright, dyed platinum blonde, her face a caked mess of makeup. Her nails were long, sharp, and painted bright red; and finally, the feature that took the proverbial cake—

She was dressed in pink. Bright, _neon_ pink.

Entirely dressed in _bright, neon,_ _pink._

Duo's first thought was, _Even Relena has more fashion sense than that, and she wears practically the same thing!_

Sam, unfortunately, had not had the exposure to the lesser-known monstrosities that the female gender were apparently capable of, that Duo had. His eyes were glazed and distant, his mouth slack.

"So...much...pink..." he whispered.

Duo nodded.

Finally, they gained enough coherency to actually speak. One look at each other was enough to confirm their thoughts.

"Ah, yes, Miss Hyden," Duo said, as politely as he could manage given the circumstances. "You are here because of the job offer, yes?"

"Like, duh," she said, examining her nails as she flopped gracelessly into one of the chairs. "So, like, what is it? Do we get paid a lot of money? Why am I talking to you two, anyways? Lady Une said I was meeting with Commanders Maxwell and Tahary, which you two obviously aren't. So where are they?"

"Actually, Miss Hyden," Sam said frigidly, having recovered from his surprise. "We _are_ the commanders. I am Tahary, and he is Maxwell. And I believe we both agree when I say that we won't be requiring your services, today or any other day. Thank you for coming in."

It was obvious that he had to physically contain his anger to be able to speak in a polite tone to this woman.

She scoffed. "You two are the commanders? You're younger than I am! Who the hell made you commanders? And how dare you judge me! I've been working for the Preventer's since they started!

"Lady Une made us Commanders, _Miss Hyden_," Duo said, even colder than Sam. His tone when he spoke her name clearly said that he would dearly love to call her something less...savory. "We judge you because you are nothing like the person we thought you were. You have obviously changed, and not for the better. Now leave, Miss Hyden, before we are forced to call security to remove you!"

She stood, tossing her hair. "Fine. Like, whatever. Like I need your stupid mystery job. See you on the flip side, losers."

She stalked from the room with as much grace and dignity as she could manage—which was not much.

The room was silent for several minutes after her departure, until Sam finally broke it by saying sarcastically, "Well, _that_ went well. Who screwed up with _her_ file?"

Duo shrugged—before reaching over to smack the other upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I told ya not ta jinx it, ya fuckin' idiot!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the two were rubbing their heads and silently cursing the name of Une. Their third interview had gone even _worse_ than the one with Summer Hyden, if such a thing was even possible. The man had only had to walk in the door for them to know that he wasn't was they were looking for. He had a cocky, reckless, arrogant, I'm-the-best air about him, exactly what they _didn't_ want.

Unfortunately, he was also the type that thought he was god's gift to man—and women—and that if they were rejecting _him_ for this obviously only-the-best job, something must be seriously wrong with _them_, because there was obviously nothing wrong with_ him_ at all. _He_ was perfect.

They actually did have to call security after ten futile minutes of trying to convince him to leave. He was dragged out still spitting profanities and insults at them.

Thus the headaches and Une feeling suspiciously like her days were numbered.

"Don't think I can take much more of this, Tahary." Duo muttered, wincing as that action provoked yet another stab of pain to his head. "And we're only on the fourth one out of fifty!"

Sam nodded, and then winced as well.

Any further talking—not that they wanted to talk much—was cut off by a soft voice from the door. "Ummm...are you two all right?"

They looked up and were met with the sight of what seemed to be—in their eyes—an angel.

It was a woman, by her appearance their next interviewee. Honey hair in a bun, concerned hazel eyes, dressed in a black pleated skirt and a white blouse, bag on her shoulder and—the proverbial halo and angel's wings—a bottle of Tylenol held in one hand, obviously in the process of being put back into her bag.

But this angel obviously had steel. Muscles, grace, a hardness to her eyes present in anyone who had seen battle.

"Lily Tanner?" Duo asked hopefully.

She nodded slowly. "Yes...are you Commanders Maxwell and Tahary? The ones who are offering some sort of secret job?"

They both nodded back. Duo spoke again. "Lily, let's make a deal here."

She cocked her head to the side, a bit of wariness coming into her eyes. "What kind of deal?"

They grinned, and Sam was the one that answered her. "You give us that bottle of Tylenol, and you get the job just on general principle."

She looked at the bottle in her hand in surprise, as though she had only just remembered that it was there. "Oh, that! I took some just before I got here—nerves, you know. You can take it, but should you really just give me the job like that? I'd like to know what I'm getting into, and for all you know I could be some secret serial killer."

They gazed, wide-eyed, at the woman in front of them, who was merely looking at them with an innocent, curious expression her face.

"Are ya?" Duo asked.

She smiled mysteriously, and it was at that moment that they knew that any innocence she had was faked. This woman was _evillll. _"I don't know. Am I?"

Duo let out a barking laugh. "Say, Lily, how'd you like to join a super-secret black ops division?"

She cocked her head again. "Well, that's not blunt," she said with a giggle. "But what would said joining entail? I'd love to join, but I've got a husband, you know."

"Well..." Sam hedged. They hadn't quite figured that part out yet—the potential agents who had families. He decided to wing it and hope Duo wouldn't murder him later. "You'd probably vanish for about the next six months, due to our planned retraining program, with limited contact with the outside. After that, though, we're not quite barbarians, you know. It's not like we're going to hold you captive in some super-secret underground facility and only let you out for missions. There'd be phone-calls, letters, emails, long weekends to visit, breaks and vacations, etc. You'd just have to keep the true nature of your job a secret."

A look at Duo was enough to tell him that he had said the right thing. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Hmmm," Lily murmured. "Six months, you say? Well, I have been thinking about taking an extended vacation away from home...I may have a husband, but he's a bit of a dreamer, head always in the clouds...maybe a bit of distance will do us good. You know what they say; absence makes the heart grow fonder. This isn't exactly a vacation...but it'll do. Gentlemen," she said, sitting up straight and looking them in the eyes. "You have yourself a deal."

They both grinned. "Great!" Duo crowed enthusiastically. "We'll be hammerin' out the rest of the details in the next few weeks, squarin' everythin' away and such, so you've got time ta do the same. Don't call us—we'll call you. If ya have any questions, just ask Une...she'll answer, probably, or if she can't she'll call us."

She smiled at them and stood. However, just as she was about to make her way out, Duo stopped her again. "Wait," he called after her, and she paused.

"Tylenol?" he asked, hopefully, and Sam was making puppy-dog eyes behind him.

She laughed and with a shake of her head pulled the bottle from her purse and tossed it at them, before leaving with a wave of her hand.

Let's just say that Conference Room 1C was once again being avoided, for fear of rabid dogs.

* * *

Duo and Sam, now blissfully medicated, were surprised when instead of their next interviewee walking through the door, Lady Une did instead.

"Lady Une?" Sam asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Your last interview for the day flat-out rejected. Said they were perfectly happy with the job they had, didn't even want to know what was being offered. So, I'm here to see how it's been going. Any progress?"

They looked at each other. "Depends on how ya define 'progress,'" Duo replied, leaning back in his chair. "We're two for four, if that's what ya mean."

"Really?" Une asked, curiously. "Who rejected? Or, more aptly, who did you reject?"

"Summer Hyden," Sam said with a shudder. "And...some guy I can't even remember the name of, had to be taken out by security."

Une raised an eyebrow, and decided not to comment. But she made a mental note to check the files of the people they had interviewed so far—specifically, the psyche profiles.

"You'd be better off askin' us who we _didn't_ reject," Duo continued. "Caleb Adara—nice guy, ya really should have given him a promotion before now. And Lily Tanner. Ah yes, Lily Tanner..."

"Goddess, she is," Sam added.

"She gave us _Tylenol_," Duo said to Une's once again raised eyebrow, as though that explained everything. And, considering these two, it did.

"So, Lady Une," Sam said, changing the subject. "I have a question."

"Yes, Tahary?" she asked.

"You said earlier that you were planning on bringing in experts to help us with training. To reiterate Duo, who _are_ you planning on bringing in?"

Duo nodded in agreement with the question.

She smiled, that shark smile again. "Well, we're still having a bit of trouble finding the people we plan on bringing it, so until we do, I'm going to keep that information to myself. Rest assured, though...they are _good_ at what they do."

In her head she added, O_ne of their results is sitting right in front of me._

"Aw, c'mon Lady! It's not fair ta keep secrets, ya know!"

"Have you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Duo?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Pot. Kettle. Shut up and quit while you're ahead, Duo."

"Shuttin' up."

"Thank you," she said, smiling smugly, while Sam looked on in amusement. "Now, I was wondering if you two had any suggestions as to who might help you to train? It is your division, after all—anyone who might be able to help, so long as they meet certain standards of approval."

Sam merely shrugged. "Former desk jockey, here. Don't know many high-level people. No real friends in Preventer's, either—or at least any friends that could make it in a black-ops division."

Duo, however, looked thoughtful. "I could definitely get in contact with Howard and the Sweepers...this kind of covert stuff is just up his alley, or at least it used ta be. In any case, they're a valuable intelligence asset...and I might have some other friends from the war and on L2 that could help. There are a couple of people I remember, not Preventer's or anythin', but damn good at what they do...and maybe we should revisit a couple of files we passed over, now that I think about it. Wish old G was still around...this was really his thing..."

Neither boy noticed how Une twitched at that. She covered it easily, though.

"Well Duo, if you think they'll be willing to help, go ahead and get in contact with them. Be careful, though—we don't want too many outsiders knowing, if they're not going to help. Tread carefully, test the waters before you make any offers. Are there any other details you boys have figured out?"

They looked at each other and shrugged.

"In all honestly, we're planning on leaving the smaller stuff like name and codenames and uniforms and symbols and stuff till later," Sam replied.

Duo continued, "We figured ya have somethin' figured out for facilities and such, but right now we need ta focus on the agents themselves, and designin' the trainin' regime they're gonna have ta go through. That's what's important right now."

She nodded. Well, at least they were capable of prioritizing...she'd had a couple of doubts after earlier events. "Very well."

"Was there anything else you needed, Lady Une?" Sam asked curiously.

There was that shark smile again. "Ah, yes. Glad that you asked. You see, since your last interviewee opted out, I took it upon myself to procure another one."

"Another candidate?" Duo asked. "Are they one from the list? Did they happen ta end up on this base today? Are they one of the maybes?"

Lady Une shook her head in the negative. "No, they're not on any of your lists, Duo, nor are they in Preventers, but I'd still like you to give them a chance. She's very well trained, and has connections in very high places. Please don't let any preconceived prejudices stand in the way of that."

"She?" Sam asked, while Duo focused on the 'preconceived prejudices' part. Une made it sound as if they knew them...and not in a good way.

"Yes. She," a voice came from the doorway, and both of them froze, before slowly turning around.

Standing in the doorway was a girl, with pale blue eyes and long blonde hair in a bun. She was dressed oddly in a black sweater and a pair of black dress pants, a strange black collar-looking necklace around her throat. She leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed.

The strangest thing about her was her eyebrows, Sam though. _They look like they're...forked..._

Duo, however, was staring at her in poorly concealed horror.

"I recognize you," he whispered. "I'd recognize those damn eyebrows anywhere...you...you're..."

"So glad to see that you remember me, Mr. Maxwell," said the utterly calm form of Dorothy Catalonia.

* * *

Well, as I type these words, because I decided to type this before finishing the chapter so I wouldn't forget anything, it's approximately midnight and I am 20,000 feet above the ground in a tiny plane, with no internet and very little space, on the way home from vacation. Today's flight itinerary _sucked_—our first flight was delayed majorly 'cause of weather on the other end, and we already had a tight connection. Somehow we made it 20 minutes before the next flight, ran all the way from B43 to B81, found out it was at B71, ran all the way back down the terminal almost to the forties before realizing it was back again, down a flight of stairs, and a really long hallway to get to B71. And waited over an hour for the plane to take off waiting for clearance. FAHOOY. So yeah, the actual chapter is being finished about a day after these notes. Sorry for the shortness.

Now that I've finished my travel woes, other brief points of interest. First off, according to the Atomic Bomb Museum, one of the 828 bombs tested at the Nevada Test Site was codenamed Maxwell. Thought you'd all enjoy that. To Anonymous Void—I have discovered the true pink hotel. Circus Circus, Las Vegas. Your line made it in, too, thought not in the usual way...

To everyone to suggested characters, a big thank you—you have helped immensely. A special thank you to Tatsu Satsuki who gave me a suggestion for Kelly McManus—Kelly now has a big part! Later, though. She's also the inspiration behind Dorothy's appearance.

The cliffhanger in this isn't what I originally had planned, only Dorothy instead of the others I was going to bring in...but still, you get the point. The original one will come later, and you will all hate me...it is hinted at pretty obviously here.

I feel like I'm forgetting something but it's dark, late, my ears are popping, and I don't care anymore. Oyeah—updates might be sporadic for the next few weeks. I have three books to read and annotate for school—_school_—which, alas, starts two weeks from Wednesday. Pity me.

And remember—_what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas._

Ciao! (AND EFFIN' REVIEW! I SEE ALL YOU PEOPLE FAVORITING AND ALERTING, YEAH! DON'T THINK I DON'T!)


	7. 06: Second Chances

****

Shadows of Yesterday

* * *

CHAPTER SIX: SECOND CHANCES

* * *

"Y-you...you...you're...fuck, fuck,_ fuck_!" Duo spluttered, quite like Sam had done several days earlier upon finding out he was a Gundam Pilot.

Said _traitor_ was currently _snickering_ at him in the background. He was obviously not aware of how _serious this situation was!_

"How...eloquent, Mr. Maxwell. I see your vocabulary has improved so much since the war. Any other lovely vulgarities you care to regale my ears with?" Dorothy asked, calm as ever, now stepping inside the room.

"Lady, please tell me this is some sort of cruel, twisted joke! _Please tell me ya are not askin' Dorothy fuckin' Catalonia ta join our division!"_

"I could tell you that, Duo," Lady Une replied, just as calm as Dorothy. "But that would be lying. And I seem to remember that you set quite a bit of store by honesty, yes?"

Duo went through several retorts in his mind, beginning with _Fuck honesty!_, heading to _Dorothy fuckin' Catalonia?_, and finally ending with the one he decided to voice.

"_Why?" _he asked in exasperation.

"She has many useful skills, Duo," Lady Une replied, sighing internally, She had known this wouldn't turn out well. "Her skills in political maneuvering and manipulation alone should make her a strong candidate in your mind, to say the least of her combat skills and her mastery of the Mobile Doll system."

Sam was now looking back and forth between the two of them, confusion plain of his face, gaze occasionally darting towards the woman who had introduced herself as Dorothy Catalonia.

For some odd reason, that name struck a chord somewhere in his head. Catalonia...wasn't that...

He paled subtly. Now he remembered—Dorothy Catalonia was the granddaughter of Duke Dermail, one of the biggest war mongers during the war. And that was to say the least of her own battle-loving ways—he remembered hearing how she joined White Fang, the group that had tried to destroy the Earth, just because _she could!_

And Lady Une wanted this psycho to join the division!

_Shit,_ he though, quite succinctly.

"Fuck no!" Duo exclaimed. "Nuh-uh, no way, no fuckin' way! She's a psycho, Lady, a fuckin' psycho! Does the fact that her eyebrows are goddamned _forked_ mean anythin' ta ya at _all?_

"As...entertaining as this is, Mr. Maxwell," Dorothy interjected, now taking a seat in one of the spare chairs. "Please leave my eyebrows out of it. There's only so much a girl can take before it becomes quite repetitive and annoying."

Duo glared at her. "I know what you're doin', Catalonia, and let me assure ya, I ain't fallin' for it!"

She raised one forked eyebrow, causing Sam to snicker quietly. "And what exactly am I doing, Mr. Maxwell!"

He flailed his arms exasperatedly. "I dunno...whatever it is that ya do, actin' all polite ta get people ta trust you and then bam! ya stab them in the back the first chance ya get!"

Lady Une finally decided to just sit back and watch this play out.

She wished she had brought some popcorn, though.

Dorothy was the one glaring at him now, arms crossed. "And is it so hard to believe that I may have changed somewhat in the last year?"

"Yes. Very hard. _Excruciatingly_ hard," Duo replied.

"In case you've forgotten, Mr. Maxwell, we were on the same side when little Mariemaia rebelled."

"Really? 'Cause the only side I ever remember you actually officially bein' on was Romefeller. Ya inspired a bunch of civilians and supplied some trucks durin' the rebellion."

They were both glaring at each other now, and Sam was joining Une in the wish for popcorn.

Surprisingly, Dorothy relented first, sighing. "Well, how about a compromise, Mr. Maxwell?"

He held his glare for a few moments longer, but eventually curiosity won out. He steepled his fingers in front of his face. "What kind of compromise?"

"You let me join, on...probation, shall we say? I'll go through whatever training you and your friend Mr. Tahary here decide to provide, while simultaneously using my numerous political skills to help get the division on its feet and immersed in the shadowy world of black ops. And all I require from you is a modicum of trust and perhaps, a second chance. I can't help being who I was and am, you know."

Something flashed in his eyes, then, a bit of pain and the smallest bit of understanding.

When he finally spoke, it was to bark, "Tahary. Hallway. Now,"

Sam nodded silently, eyes wide, and followed the now agitated boy out into the hall.

Dorothy waited until the door had closed behind them and she heard the quiet murmur of voices before speaking.

"So, what do you think, Lady Une?"

Said woman shook her head. "You had him at the words 'second chance.' The last bit did you a lot of favors, too. Damn, Catalonia, you sure know how to hit a man below the belt."

She chuckled. "I do have some skills in that area, I suppose. But honestly, what are they thinking?"

Lady Une's eyes sharpened. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Quite a bit, I imagine. Weren't you the one extolling my political and information gathering skills just a few moments ago?"

"Let me guess, you aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope."

"Sadist."

"And proud of it...though I will tell you, he has some very good reasons to hate them. Has every right to, really."

"Really?"

"It's not going to work, m'lady."

"Worth a try."

* * *

Meanwhile, out in the hall, Duo and Sam were having a hissed conversation, complete with violent gestures—at least on Duo's part.

"Fuck it, I hate that woman! She knows exactly how ta get underneath my skin!"

"Duo...I know what she's done, and believe me, I think as much of her sanity as you do...but don't you think she has a point?"

"Yes, Sam, that's the fuckin' point—she has one! And that's what irritates the hell out of me."

Duo leaned back against the wall and buried his face in his hands, sighing heavily.

"I...I think we should give her a second chance, like she asks," Sam said, nervously. "Like the one we gave to Caleb, like the one given to Une and most every other soldier in the War...like the one Une gave me. Like..."

Sam looked to the ceiling and prayed one last time for his life, before taking the metaphorical plunge.

"...like the one the other pilots obviously didn't give you," he whispered.

Duo's breathing hitched and he went completely still.

"Duo...I never knew her before, only what the news said. But...there's something in her, something that's telling the truth. She's changed. And...I think it's for the better. What do you say?"

Duo was still for several more seconds before he finally looked up from his hands, something dark and unreadable in his eyes.

"Second chances," he murmured darkly and with just a hint of wistfulness, turning his gaze upward. "What I wouldn't give..."

Decision made, he surprised Sam by turning and heading for the conference room, slamming the door open to stand on the threshold and glare at the women within—specifically, the one looking at him with a strange sort of expectation on her face.

"This isn't a second chance," he growled. "This is a _final_ chance."

It definitely said something that the wide, pleased, almost maniacal grin that spread across her face didn't scare him.

Not one bit.

* * *

Over the next month and a half, as agents began to steadily pour in from across the Sphere, Sam and Duo—with the occasional help of Une and even less often, Dorothy—slowly worked their way through the list of candidates, recruiting, rejecting, and on occasion, being rejected.

On the days when they didn't have any interviews—quite often, considering missions and travel—they would spend the day trying to make progress on all of the other crap involved in starting a black-ops division.

Duo got in contact with Howard and the Sweepers a couple weeks in, and soon had the entirety of the group on board, both for the training and later, information gathering. Howard himself along with a team he had selected would be heading for headquarters the moment Duo said the word—and when asked, Howard merely laughed off his concerns, saying that he more than trusted his second, Brian, to run things for a couple of months, and that it would be good practice for when he himself finally kicked the bucket.

(At which Duo had smacked him upside the head. Hard.)

He had also tried to get in touch with some old friends on L2, to see if they would consider helping and/or joining. The same with a few acquaintances he had kept during the war.

Needless to say, that hadn't turned out well. Half of said friends and acquaintances had apparently turned up dead sometime in the last few years, and the other half were paranoid to the point of obsession and hadn't replied yet.

(A small percentage were also currently in prison or undergoing mental treatment. He really needed to be more thorough in his background checks.)

He had a feeling he would be waiting a long time for those replies.

Une had yet to reveal whom she was trying to recruit for training, and every time he or Sam tried to ask, she would merely reply, "I haven't found them yet, so there's no point in telling you until I know they're on board. Stop asking."

Not that they did...though the fact that she had started smirking uncontrollably whenever she saw them, or specifically, Duo, a couple weeks ago, scared them slightly.

They had put together a rough outline of their training regime, but had decided to leave the rest to Une's mysterious "experts," considering that they would be retraining as well.

Hell knew they needed it.

A few of those "off" days were also spent gleefully taking off on their own without permission and simply spending the day being what they were—young men, and in the case of Duo, teenaged.

Let's just say a lot of interesting information came to light during these outings. For example, Sam's secret love of gardening. And some of Duo's more...interesting pranks on OZ bases during the war, never brought to light by said organization for fear of embarrassment.

To this day, mention the Pink Incident to any former OZ soldier that was stationed at the Berlin base and they will turn a very interesting shade of aforementioned color and stutter uncontrollably through the following conversation.

Sam _laughed_ uncontrollably and almost had to be Heimlich-maneuvered by Duo after being told of that particular prank, considering he had been in the middle of eating a hamburger when the ex-pilot told him the story.

One of the most interesting days, however, had happened not on one of their unscheduled jaunts, but the day Lucrezia Noin had walked through the door of 'their' conference room, interrupting a most important discussion on the merits of "Spock" and "Lizard" in the game rock-paper-scissors.

She had gotten in Duo's face, demanded to know exactly why he hadn't told her he was forming a black-ops division and that he need help, and then promptly seated herself in a chair between them, introduced herself to a wide-eyed Sam, and informed them she was joining and nothing they did would stop her.

Needless to say, they had sat in shocked silence for more than a minute before she finally got impatient and snapped her fingers in front of their faces, saying "Hellooo? Anyone home?"

Duo had been the first to snap out of his daze, and subsequently ask the question-hybrid-statement that was rapidly becoming one of his numerous trademarks.

"Why."

She had proceeded to explain that while she loved the Preventer's and all that jazz, there had always been a small part of her that protested the rigid, regimented, ruled-almost-by-politicians ways of the Preventer's. She missed the days of the war, when she was free to fight in her white Taurus.

She also reminded them of the little-remembered fact that she had been an instructor for new recruits at the Victoria base until one Wufei Chang showed up.

And then, finally, in a small, quiet voice she confessed that she could no longer feasibly work under Zechs Marquise if he was going to continue to be such a, in her words "ignorant, arrogant, chauvinistic, tight-assed _bastard._"

That was all it had taken for Duo—and Sam, though he wasn't quite what she was talking about—to say "you're in" without a second thought.

Honestly. The woman had all but admitted to the man that she loved him during the Mariemaia rebellion. She deserved a little bitterness.

So now they had at least one certified teacher—Howard unfortunately didn't count as certified, though he protested that vehemently—and Une full heartedly approved of her. Sally Po had already been informed and sworn to secrecy and promised covertly act as division doctor during retraining—and to train anyone who expressed an interest or talent for becoming one as well, as after retraining she would have to return full-time to Preventer's, though she would help if any emergency cases came up.

Dorothy had vanished for a full three weeks, to begin the building of the division's information network and to also re-immerse herself in the political world, seeing as she had all but vanished from the public eye for the previous three weeks. She began a steady rhetoric of passing information to Une and by extension them, providing detailed reports on the current state of political world.

The only details they had yet to truly figure out were the small ones—name of the division, symbol of the division, and uniform of the division. Those, between themselves, Une, Dorothy, and Noin—who had been invaluable in adding more structure to their training regime—had been mutually agreed upon to leave until near the end of training, when they started to get a feel for how the division members worked together as a whole, and what would work best for said members. (And by extension, themselves.)

After all, they were all basically devoting the prime of their lives to this division. They deserved a say in what the face of it was going to be.

Otherwise, Duo might just stick them all in rabbit suits, just for kicks.

Also, facilities—which they figured Une had something set up, somewhere, or in the process of being set up. They had yet to ask.

And thus, that was the current state of things as the last interviewee finally walked out of the conference room, proud holder of a new black-ops job.

The two of them did the only thing feasible at that moment—they leaned back in their chairs, threw their hands up, and whooped at the top of their lungs.

"We're done!" Duo exclaimed. "Finally! It's over! No more interviews, no more egotistical rants—"

"—no more calling security, no more overdosing on Tylenol—" Sam added, twirling in his swivel chair, one of which they had both bought several weeks ago as they had essentially moved into Conference Room 1C.

"—bein' mistaken for desk jockeys takin' the place of the Commanders, bein' called a girl—"

"—hiding from Dorothy and her intelligence network every time we sneak out to have some fun—"

"—bein' treated like lepers by every other agent in the organization because we happen ta be a little insane—"

This was the scene Noin came upon as she walked into the Conference Room to check on the two, considering that she knew they had just finished their last interview. She had never been particularly close to Duo during the war, even after they started fighting on the same side, more of a friend to Quatre and Howard than anyone else. Over the last month, though, she had grown steadily closer to both him and Sam, a boy she vaguely remember seeing a few times around the office, but never knew his name.

She guessed she could call them friends, now.

Of course, she'd have had to have been blind not to notice the animosity displayed towards the other pilots by Duo. It confused her because as far as she'd known, they'd been relatively close come the end of the Mariemaia rebellion. She wondered what had happened.

Duo wasn't saying anything, and no one else seemed to know either. If they did, they were keeping silent as well.

_But for now_, she thought as she watched the two boys begin to waltz around the room with each other, _I have black-mail photos to take_.

In her hands was a digital camera.

* * *

Duo and Sam were laughing hysterically, waltzing and dancing and twirling around the conference room, when a bright flash and a whirring noise caused them to jump apart. Unfortunately, backwards for both of them put Sam into a wall and Duo into a chair. They both fell, cursing violently.

Laughter reached their ears, interrupting the tirade. They both looked up to see Noin standing in the doorway—camera held in hand. She snapped another photo before they could recover.

"Noin..." Duo growled. "It's not funny!"

The chuckling began to die away. "Yes, it is, Duo," Noin replied, turning the dial on the camera to look at her pictures. "Very funny."

"You are an evil, evil woman," Sam said from his place on the floor where he sat rubbing his head.

"Oh really? You just realized that, Tahary?" she teased. "I see you two are...happy...to be done with your interviews!"

"Damn right we're happy!" Duo exclaimed, finally standing and heading over to Sam to help him to his feet. "Pleased! Giddy! Fuckin' ecstatic! Do ya know how many bottles of Tylenol we've gone through in the last month and a half?"

"Do I want to know?" she asked, still amused.

"No, you don't," Sam interjected when it looked like Duo was about to actually reply. He had a feeling the amount of Tylenol they had consumed might actually be considered illegal—aka, addiction—in some places.

Best not to tell that to a Preventer's agent, even if she was technically one of their own now.

"Say, Sam," Duo suddenly said, perking up considerably. "We're done with the interviews."

"Yeah..." he said slowly.

"Which means we have ta start retrainin' soon, once we get everyone back here. Reminds me, we need ta ask Une about facilities..."

"Uh-huh," he replied, not quite sure where he was going with this. Noin was confused too, though she took advantage of their distraction to place the camera safely in a pocket.

"Which _means_ Une can no longer hide from us who she's gettin' ta be the re-trainers. What's say we bust into her office unannounced and find out?"

An unholy grin spread across Sam's face, mirroring the one already on Duo's. A month and a half hanging around the self-proclaimed Shinigami had done wonders for his self-confidence and sense of humor.

(And also pretty much destroyed any sense of self-preservation.)

"Let's go," he replied, and in the next instant they were gone, leaving Noin to blink as the breeze blew by her. But then a similar grin spread across her face—

—they had forgotten about the camera.

* * *

Agents moved hastily out of the way, and some called around corners to warn friends and colleagues of the approaching threat.

Maxwell and Tahary were on the move.

They raced down the hallways, laughing maniacally—though less fervently, in Sam's case. He wasn't totally corrupted yet—completely forgoing the elevators and instead taking the stairs, all three flights, up to Une's office.

They vaguely registered a group of five people in their peripheral vision, coming down the hallway from the elevators as they blew by Une's secretary ("Hi Sophie, bye Sophie!") and into her office with a crack of the door against the wall.

Une sighed and didn't even bother to look up from the paperwork she was trying to finish before her next appointment in two minutes. She didn't need to. There were only two people in the building who insisted on abusing her door in such a manner on a regular basis.

"Duo, Sam," she said, signing yet another document. "What is it now? I have an appointment in less than two minutes."

"Lady Une—"

"We have finished our interviews—"

She looked up, eyes wide. They were speaking in tandem. There were only two words for when that happened—_not good_.

A fact not helped by the wide, insane grins on their faces, even as they continued speaking.

"And we have decided—"

"Ta not stop buggin' ya or leave your office—"

"Until you tell us who you're bringing in for the retraining," they finished in synch, before seating themselves in her chairs.

"So, Lady," Duo began.

"Who are they?" Sam finished.

She merely looked back and forth between them for a few moments, before movement at the door caught her eye. Her eyes widened infinitesimally, and she smiled.

Now Duo and Sam were scared. Une was smiling again, that scary shark-smile that usually spelled bad things for them. And it was wider than they had ever seen it.

"Well, boys," she practically purred. "I actually wasn't going to tell you until retraining started. However, considering that they're standing behind you right now, I supposed that's kind of pointless isn't it?"

They both whirled so fast she was surprised they didn't get whiplash.

Sam's first thought was _What the hell?_

There were five men standing behind them, five _old_ men. How did Une expect these guys to do anything?

And that was to say the least of their looks. One looked like he had a mushroom on his head, for God's sake! And was that a _claw?_ A rubber nose?

A choked noise from his right drew his attention to Duo, who, he now saw, had gone white at the sight of the five men.

_Bone white_.

"Duo?" he asked, concerned. But the boy didn't seem to hear him.

Duo was currently in a state of shock. There was no way he was seeing what he was seeing. Because if he was seeing what he was seeing, _then there were five fucking ghosts in the room. Only they were obviously very much alive._

"Impossible," a voice said hoarsely, and he realized that it was his own. "You're _dead_. You _died._ You_ died _a fuckin' _year _ago_, _on the Libra! I saw it! What the _fuck_?"

"Now, now, 02," said the man with the claw, and Duo flinched. "Obviously we're not dead. Otherwise we wouldn't be standing here, ready and semi-willing to train your little black-ops division."

Duo stood, fury and confusion warring for dominance in his eyes. _"How?" _he snarled, L2 accent coming out in force. "_How da fuck did ya survive?"_

"That's something I'd like to know myself—" Une began to say, however she was cut off by the man with the mushroom hair.

"Is that any way to speak to your elders, boy?" said Professor G; J, H, S, and O chuckling beside him.

Duo did the only thing he could at that moment. It was all too much—Dorothy, Noin, the interviews, and now the five men responsible for destroying what was left of his and the other pilot's childhood, five men he was sure had died a year ago when the remains of the Libra exploded.

He blacked out.

And Sam merely looked on in utter confusion, even as he cried out and reached out to stop his friend from falling to the ground.

One of these days, he really needed to sit Duo down and have him explain _everything _about his past.

He was sick to death of being the last one to know everything.

* * *

Well, there's the sort-of cliffhanger I had planned for_ last_ chapter, until Dorothy quite gleefully took over. Yeah, you read it. _The Scientists._ All five of them, not just one or two like you guys guessed or suggested. Prepare for all manners of pain, terror, and chaos. This chapter was originally 'Dead Men Walking', but 'Second Chances' fit better, even if it's more cliché...and it's the longest yet.

I'm going to address this RIGHT NOW so that everyone stops asking. The other pilots _will be in this story_. WILL. BE. IN. THE STORY. It just won't happen for a _while yet._ I have a lot planned before they are even a blip on my radar, and as I've told some reviewers, you will likely all despise me by the time they show up. There. Now you know.

Also, just so you know, the next chapter likely won't be until at least next weekend. I have been banned from the computer starting tomorrow until I finish my summer reading assignments; _All Quiet on the Western Front_, _Mythology_ by Edith Hamilton, and _The Kite Runner_. And school starts next Wednesday. Sorry to all.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and everything else—especially Anonymous Void, again, for answering my consistent questions and giving amazing ideas. Without AN this chapter would not have been out tonight.

Because you've all been so amazing, I'm going to give a teaser—an epic line that I decided last night Duo would say somewhere in this story. Somewhere.

_Strength is when you keep yourself standing, even if everybody else would understand if you broke down._

See you next week. Hopefully I won't be dead from _school._

Ciao!


	8. Interlude: Bells

**Shadows of Yesterday**

* * *

INTERLUDE: BELLS

_Hear the sledges with the bells -  
Silver bells!  
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!  
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,  
In the icy air of night!  
While the stars that oversprinkle  
All the heavens, seem to twinkle  
With a crystalline delight;  
Keeping time, time, time,  
In a sort of Runic rhyme,  
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells  
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,  
Bells, bells, bells -  
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells._

—Edgar Allan Poe, 'The Bells'

* * *

The bell rings and he looks up, hope glaring to life in his eyes. Hope that today is the day—the day the bells will ring and his friend will walk through the door, soaked and bemoaning the state of his hair; that they'll banter back and forth until he finally asks for his mail, and inevitably there will be none—they'll laugh, and he'll walk away waving and grinning only to do it all again tomorrow.

'_But there was one,'_ a snide voice whispers. _'One letter, and he left. What was your friendship to him if one letter was enough to send him running?'_

'_It's only been a week. Maybe he went on vacation, or had to visit a relative or a friend. He'll be back.'_

'_Denial,'_ it whispers, and leaves.

The bell brings not his friend, but a man he listens to with only half an ear, wallowing in his disappointment. Apparently their building's mailboxes have been destroyed by a rogue driver, and he can expect a lot of traffic in the next few days. He nods absently and the man leaves.

True to his word, people flow in and out for almost a week before it goes back to normal.

That doesn't stop the small flare of hope each time the bell rings, though.

* * *

The bell rings, and he looks up from where he is mopping the floor, so fast he nearly gets whiplash.

It's been almost a week since he last had a customer, and he's taken to mopping to alleviate the boredom.

(And so that the next time his friend walks through the door, he can brag that he _did_ wash the floors.)

'_Two months,'_ that snide voice whispers. _'Almost two months. Face it, he's gone.'_

He ignores the voice easily out of practice.

And it's just another nobody, come for their mail.

* * *

The bell rings as he shuts the door behind him, an end to another long, empty day.

Unwittingly, his gaze is drawn up the street, towards the building that until now he has been too much of a coward to approach.

'_Maybe...'_ he thinks, and begins to walk towards that distant building.

He reaches it and spends several minutes just staring, trying to work up the nerve.

'_Stop being such a goddamned coward,' _he thinks, and walks up the front steps to slip into the building.

An empty hallway greets him, dimly lit by a fluorescent strip light. Number doors stretch down it, and it is at these numbers he looks as he walks down the hall.

'_106...107...108...109.'_

He stops, heart suddenly leaping into his throat.

_109_.

It's a brown door; nondescript, simple.

It fills him with more trepidation than he's ever felt before.

'_Just do it,' _he thinks, and finally, slowly, his hand comes up and raps firmly on the door.

Silence. He waits, begins to fidget, and is about to turn away when a voice calls, "Coming!"

He feels his heart sink—the voice is female.

The door opens, revealing a pretty copper-haired, green-eyed woman, a small child balanced on her hip, looking at him with a quizzical expression on her face.

"Yes?" she asks, when he doesn't speak. "Can I help you?"

"Ah...ummm..." he gapes for a moment before finally finding his voice. "I'm sorry, this may seem strange...but can I ask how long you've lived in this apartment?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Eight months, thereabouts. Can I ask why?"

His heart sinks even more. "Never mind, thank you very much. Sorry for taking your time."

She smiles, shifting the silent child on her hip. "No problem. Did you...know someone who used to live here?"

He freezes, even as he is turning away. Sadly, slowly, he nods. "I did."

"Oh...a friend?"

He is partway down the hall now, her voice echoing after him.

"Yeah...or at least I like to think."

The apartment wasn't even empty, hinting at a return. It was occupied, no trace, no forwarding address—the he had never existed.

It hurts. Eight months. It really hurts.

He vanishes into the fading colony dusk.

* * *

The bell hasn't rung for a long while, now. Gang wars have erupted across the colony, and he works—and lives—in one of the lesser neighborhoods. Most are too afraid to venture out.

With each reported battle or death, his already dwindling hopes dies a little bit more. Why would he come back now, to this?

Rumors are spreading though—rumors of a division of shadows or _Shadows_ as some say it, the capital 'S' apparent in their tone—a division where stealth, secrecy, and anonymity are the name of the game. No one even knows where the rumors come from, with these ghosts rarely leaving a target alive.

Many disapprove, but he doesn't care, so long as the wars don't touch his life. It's a simple life, but he likes it.

Once, a short while ago, he thought he saw one of them—one of those _shadows_. An indistinct figure, sprinting down an alley, vanishing moments later into the darkness, black cloak flapping in their haste.

He also thought he saw, for just a split second, a flash of violet eyes and the tail end of a chestnut braid, and that was when he knew he was hallucinating.

It had been a year, now. A very long, lonely year.

And a part of him—just a small part of him—was starting to admit that maybe, just maybe, that voice was right.

* * *

The bell rings, and he slowly lifts his head, barely acknowledging that small, stubborn spark of hope. It dies quickly, however, as he takes in the man that has walked through the door, a man whose vibe literally screams, _'dangerous!'_

He has blue eyes and shaggy brown hair, but the eyes are cold and hard, and he walks with a stiff, formal, yet graceful and _dangerous_ air.

This man is a soldier. And he is obviously not here for his mail.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asks. No need to be rude, even though he's quaking in his metaphorical boots.

"Hn. Yes, you can. Have you seen this man?"

A picture is held out for his perusal, and he leans forward to look, feigning boredom.

His heart stops, though, when he takes in the image of his friend, all black and braid and laughter, obviously caught in mid spin. It is the first time he has seen him anywhere but his memories since he left, and he realizes now that they didn't do him justice.

Still, if this man is looking for him, it can't be a good thing. Friend or not...

"No," he replies, thankful his voice is steady. "Haven't seen him."

The man doesn't reply—only stares at him, unnerving him. The stare morphs into a glare—one of the most terrifying he's seen.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not," _Yes, I am._

"You are. And I highly suggest you start telling the truth."

His gaze promises all manners of pain and death is he doesn't. And finally, he caves.

He turns away, pretending to check something behind the counter. He hears the snort of irritation, and just as the man is about to speak again, he cuts him off.

"He was my friend, once," he whispers. "A long time ago..."

He can feel the stare on the back of his neck, burning into it, but he refuses to turn around. Finally, after a few minutes, it stops, and moments later he hears the bell.

With it goes the man—and the last of his hope.

* * *

Time goes by, and slowly he forgets. A phrase here, an image there, a scene there, and slowly his friend fades from his memory, gone save for a few vague thoughts here and there when he sees something that happens to remind him. One day the bell rings, and he looks up in eager anticipation—only to quickly become confused, for he does not know why he looked up.

More days come, day after day after day, and finally a day comes, a slow, usual day.

The bell rings.

He doesn't look up.

* * *

This is, as you can obviously see, not a chapter, but an interlude that I've had planned from the very beginning of this story and have been scribbling into a composition notebook at every chance for the last few days, to give you something to chew over until I can get the actual chapter planned and written.

As I write this I am officially done with my first day of school, and it was torture, let me tell you. Yes, I did get my reading done, thank you for asking. _The Kite Runner_ was amazing and yet so very sad. Favorite line—"For you, a thousand times over."

Those of you reading this who have decided to read _only_ this just so you can figure out what's going on, GO BACK AND READ THE INTERLUDE NOW! I worked damn hard on this, and there's a lot of important foreshadowing in it. So read! It's Seth, for those of you who didn't guess.

I may not make my chapter deadline, though, too much to do and it usually takes me several days to write it. I will try my hardest, though, and remember—every review really helps, even if it's just a good job and keep it up.

Thanks for sticking with me, and hang tight for the next chapter—'_Welcome to Hell.'_

I disclaim anything you recognize as not belonging to me, including the poem at the top.

Ciao!

—Erin


	9. 07: Welcome to Hell

**Shadows of Yesterday**

**

* * *

**

CHAPTER SEVEN: WELCOME TO HELL

* * *

"...can't believe they're only nineteen and twenty-two..."

"...couldn't believe that they asked _me_ to join a black-ops division..."

"...wasn't the one a Gundam pilot?"

"...who cares? Hell, that just makes it better..."

"...wonder where they are...or where _we_ are..."

Duo had to grin as he heard the last comment, though luckily it was hidden beneath the brim of his ever-loved baseball cap.

* * *

Where they were was the finally revealed headquarters of the new division, a place that had finally told Duo and Sam just how long Une had been planning this for. In fact, they wouldn't be surprised if she had planned this even before the Preventer's were formed—right after the war.

They were _underneath_ Preventer's headquarters, in a massive underground complex comprised of three floors and many twisting hallways. They still weren't quite sure how far it stretched horizontally, considering they'd only had a week to explore it.

Yes—after Duo finally woke up in the Preventer's infirmary, finished ranting about Une's insanity to Sam, who just smiled and nodded, accepted that it was really the only thing they could do and gave Sally a message to give to the scientists—which basically boiled down to, _I hate you bastards, but unfortunately we need you. Therefore, do your job and stay the fuck away from me at all costs—_Une had decided that was a good time to show them their new facilities before Duo lost it and went on a murderous rampage. And Sam joined him.

Unfortunately, she decided to be all "mysterious and shit" as Duo later put it, and simply walked into the infirmary, said "Follow me," and walked out.

They followed her—to the elevator. Upon entering, Une hit the emergency stop button, utterly confusing them.

"Lady Une, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

She didn't reply, because she was fishing a key out of her pocket. Then she said,

"This."

She stuck the key into one of the keyholes on the button panel, one Preventer's had always assumed was for the Fire Department or something.

She twisted it, and with a shudder the elevator began moving down.

And down.

And down.

"Lady, we were only on the second floor! Where the hell are ya takin' us?" Duo exclaimed even as the elevator continued to move down.

She only grinned—damn that shark grin—and even as Duo was about to verbally ream her out, he felt the elevator shudder to a stop.

_Ding._

They the three of them merely stared at each other for a moment...and burst out laughing.

"Ding..." Sam gasped out between his chuckles. "Anti-climatic..."

Une shook her head, before going serious again—though they could see a smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

The doors slid open, and she said, "Welcome to the headquarters of the...whatever the hell you decide to call this division."

And so they gaped.

Like the fishes.

In front of them was a gigantic circular room, stretching upwards what appeared to be three stories—and high enough that the top was _almost_ lost to shadow. To their right, a ramp stretched upwards to the first of the walkways that ring the room, another one high above it connected by another ramp. Around the floor they are already on, the entrances to four hallways are visible at the cardinal points, and they could see other entrances on the other levels. And in the center of the open area on the first floor was a large common area—chairs, tables, a couch or two, all clustered around a large circular metal ring that they couldn't tell the purpose for at that moment.

"Whoa..." Sam whispered. "Lady Une..."

"Just how long have ya been workin' on this, Lady?" Duo finished, also gaping.

She grinned. "Since right after the end of the war. This entire complex was finished in the first five months after the end of it, just barely though—the workers worked from dawn to dusk, every day, and were all sworn to secrecy. With generous overtime, of course. After that was when the main Preventer's building was constructed...I, Sally, and a few _very_ high ranking military and political officials are the only ones who currently know of its existence."

"And now you and your division, of course," she added, almost as an afterthought.

They just stared.

Five seconds later Une was blinking, her buns flying in a sudden breeze. She just barely caught a glimpse of a flying chestnut braid and a shag of black hair vanishing down a hallway—shouts of excitement echoing behind them.

She sighed. Typical.

She really should expect this by now.

* * *

It goes unsaid that the underground headquarters was perfect. Everything that could possibly be needed for the training, living, and running of about fifty high-strung black-ops agents was there.

Down to the coffee and therapeutic paper shredders, specifically made to take special papers about half the size of a piece of paperwork, in precaution.

Duo smirked even harder as he heard yet another one of the candidate agents ask "where are the Commanders?"

Across the room, he caught the eye of Sam—disguised in knit cap and shaded transition glasses. They nodded at each other.

Show time.

A subtle signal to Howard, hiding in the shadows of one of the corners, and all the lights went out.

Mass pandemonium ensued.

In the chaos, Sam and Duo made their way easily to the front, dodging flailing and running bodies to stand on the small platform that had been set up.

"Sam?" Duo whispered.

"Here!" Sam whispered back, wincing at a particularly loud thud from somewhere in the darkness. He swiftly removed the knit cap, but kept the glasses—he thought they looked cool. Duo too took off his cap and stuffed it in a pocket.

"3...2...1..."

"ALL OF YOU, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" they shouted in stereo, the lights coming back up at that moment to reveal fifty people, tangled in heaps on the floor or blundering around like zombies, most looking confused.

"Well, that was your first test," Sam said, as casually as commenting on the weather, even as he gave a thumbs up to Howard in the corner, who grinned back and vanished out a door. The people began to embarrassedly seat themselves in their chairs once more, even as Duo continued to speak.

"And guess what?" Duo said next. "Ya all failed. Miserably. Completely. A failure of epic proportions. Honestly. We chose _you_ lot as our agents? Sam, what were we thinkin'?"

"Dunno, Duo, I guess we weren't?"

"Obviously not."

"Well, fortunately for 'you lot,' as Duo says," Sam continued, grinning. "You're going to get a second chance."

"And a whole heap of other chances, if this is anything ta go by," Duo added, appearing to calmly examine his nails. "Shall we get down ta it, Sam?"

"We shall, Duo."

And suddenly, everything changed—and the nervous candidates felt it. The two were suddenly very serious, and very intimidating. The cheerfully sarcastic aura that had surrounded them up until now, the one every single one of them had noticed in their interviews, was gone; leaving behind two men who the candidates now realized, were entirely seriously about what they were doing, no matter what mask they presented to the world at large.

In Duo's case, you could see behind his carefully calm expression a shadow, the essence of the soldier he had been—and still was.

In Sam, that shadow was present, but not the same, and nowhere near as dark—the soldier he could have been, and...would eventually be.

"Two months ago," Duo began, and Sam just stepped back and let him talk. This was Duo's thing—that much they had agreed upon.

He could make them listen.

"Two months ago, I was nobody. I lived on L2, in a tiny apartment in one of the lesser neighborhoods, just another colony brat who'd never had anything to call his own trying to make it in a world he didn't understand—a world of peace. My only friend was, as sad as it seems, the boy I got my mail from every day.

I fought in the war. And when it was done, I didn't know what to do with myself. My whole life, I'd been fighting—and suddenly there was nothing left to fight for. And I had no one left to turn to, because the people I'd once considered my comrades left to find their own lives, and they didn't look back."

The mutters that had begun as Duo admitted his role in the war died away as the people began to realize just how much he was giving up to say what he was saying.

"Though I didn't realize it at the time, I was searching for something. And that something came in the form of the first mail I'd had in months—a letter from Lady Une, offering me my own division within the Preventers. It took me until now to realize that that offer was what I had been searching for—not the offer itself, but the promise of what it held.

A reason to fight, not because I had to, but because I wanted to—to be able to fight for a cause I'd decided for myself, to defend the peace I fought so hard to bring about in the first place. It was my second chance."

Duo paused to take a breath; the room was dead silent. His accent was utterly gone in the face of his complete seriousness.

"All of you chose to take _our_ offer, for one reason or another. We don't care what those reasons are—a reason to fight, a way to escape, the promise of something new, or perhaps, like me, a second chance. The point is, you have a reason to give up your lives for this chance. You are _willing_ to give up your lives to fight for a peace that many of you sat on the sidelines for as it was won. That means more than you can ever know. We chose you because we knew you _could _make that sacrifice, but it was up to you whether you _would_. And you did.

Right now, it doesn't matter who you are, or who you were. Whether you were OZ, or Romafeller, or rebellion. Civilian, soldier, or general. What matters is that you all made the choice to fight, and possibly—to die."

Duo's voice was beginning to waver, Sam noticed. This was getting to him. So, he stepped up and put and near-invisible hand to his shoulder, stilling his voice. Duo shot him a grateful look, and he knew he had done the right thing. He began to speak, forgetting for a moment that he had no idea what to say.

"That is what you will learn here, these next six months. You will learn to live—live together, by the moment, for the moment, within the moment. You will learn to fight—for your life, for your comrades, for peace, for everyone else who can't fight for themselves. For the innocent who will never know that you fight for them. And you will learn to die. To die fighting, to die living, to die knowing that with your death you spared another, even if they never know."

_You will learn to kill._

Those words were unspoken. Yet everyone heard them, in the sudden, ringing silence. No one dared to breathe.

And then Duo smiled, and somehow all the tension went out of the room. His accent came back as he too relaxed...slightly. "Right now, though, you're here, and _that's_ what matters. So...how'd ya like ta meet the people who are goin' ta be trainin' you for the next six months?"

A ragged, muted cheer went up throughout the room, interspersed with nervous laughter.

Duo grinned widely, and gestured at Sam, who called towards the back of the room.

"Oi, psychos! You can come out now!"

Sam had decided to try and get to know the scientists over the last few days. It was a choice he regretted immensely. Needless to say, he agreed with all of Duo's opinions on them. Thus, "psychos."

A voice came from the back of room. "Silence, young whippersnapper! Respect your elders!"

Duo smirked and called back, "Oh, admittin' your age finally? And since when do ya use the word "whippersnappers?"

"Because it is a most useful word," came another voice, "when used to describe one such as you, 02."

"I am so hurt," Duo mocked back, while all of the candidates looked on in confusion—there appeared to be a door at the rear of the room, but they couldn't see anyone!

Oh. There they were.

The room's collective thoughts at the appearance of the scientists, unknowing that they were imitating Sam from a week earlier; _What the hell?_

And so the scientists made their grand appearance. Grand used in the most sarcastic sense of the word.

They made their way towards the front of the room where the two smirking boys were standing. J managed to get one woman to squeak and hide behind the man next to her when he caught her staring at his hand and waggled it cheerfully at her.

They may be pre-black-ops agents, but honestly, what _isn't _creepy about an old dude with little goggles and a metal claw?

Not to mention the rubber nose.

And the scary mustache.

And the mushroom hair with the big nose.

_Andddd_ the guy who was creepy just on general principle because he was obviously in with the rest of them. And he was huge.

Finally at the front of the room, G was the one to speak up. "These your agents, Duo, Tahary? I must say, they don't look like much."

Cue looks of indignation. Ah, the sound of numerous spines snapping straight.

Duo shook his head. "Why don't ya introduce yourselves _first_, ya crazy old geezers, before ya antagonize them and/or traumatize them."

"We were getting to that! Now, I am Doctor J," the doctor said, waving his metal arm at his audience. "Yes, this is a prosthetic metal claw-arm. Touch it and face some of my less_..._pleasant experiments on human beings."

"I am Professor G," the next man said. "I will warn you now. If I hear even a_ whisper_ about my appearance, you will all be running laps for the next century, while fending off numerous...dangers. Please remember that I am at least partially responsible for the _thing_ standing next to me."

He pointed at Duo, who immediately cried, "OI!" He was ignored as S decided to make his introduction.

"I am Doktor S, not to be confused with Doctor J; my title includes a K. Yes, this is a rubber nose."

"I am Instructor H. I am perfectly capable of my job, despite appearances. Remember that."

"I am Master O." (As Duo and Sam had discovered, O was a very succinct person. He was most definitely the type to mince words. He almost painfully reminded Duo of Trowa.)

"Hey, where are Noin and Dorothy?" Sam asked suddenly as the candidates were digesting the oddities of their future trainers.

"Right here, Mr. Taharyyy!" a cheerfully insane voice sang from behind them, and Sam and Duo subtly shuddered.

Dorothy was singing. That was not good. It usually meant pain. Lots of pain. And it looked like the candidates could see that. They were all rather nervous and pale-looking right now.

SMACK.

"Ow! Miss Noin, what was that for?"

"Scaring the newbies. Do you want to scar them for life, Dorothy?"

"Yessss..."

Duo rolled his eyes as the two of them walked towards the platform from whatever door they had appeared out of (because there were always more doors. Dang complicated headquarters).

Typical.

He sighed. "Noin, Dorothy, get your asses up here before they all decide it's not worth it, or worse, before _we _decide _you're_ not worth it."

Two seconds later found two women standing beside him and the doctors on the platform.

Noin gave the candidates a loose two-fingered salute. "Hey! It's nice to meet you all, and I'm sure the couple of you that come from this base recognize me from around the building. For those of you that don't, though, I'm Lucrezia Noin. You'll be seeing a lot of me because while those geezers over there are damn good at what they do, they unfortunately lack the ability to participate in practical demonstrations. I'll be one of your main trainers, and just to get this out in the open—I was an OZ military instructor at the Lake Victoria base, which is what qualifies me for this job. I don't care what you think of it; I'm long past it. But I look forward to teaching you all—it's been too long since I had any innocent young minds to corru—OW!"

Sam had elbowed her sharply, Duo doing the same from the other side. "SHHH!" Sam hissed. "She means mold ta become outstandin' soldiers, of course," Duo said loudly. "Dorothy?"

Dorothy sighed and stepped forward. "I'm quite sure you all know who I am. However, for those of you who live under a _rock_ and _don't_ know, I am Dorothy Catalonia. Yes, my eyebrows are forked. I am to be Head Interrogator and intelligence officer—meaning, be careful what you say around me or anyone who might even slightly be associated with me, because _I will know._ And you'll likely be learning interrogation and intelligence gathering techniques from me, as well," she added, almost as an afterthought.

She turned to Duo. "May I go now, Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Tahary? I was having ever so much fun with those lovely devices in the interrogation chamber."

"Yeah, sure, whatever—wait, what interrogation chamber?"

Duo and Sam were paling again. Dorothy + Torture Tools = DOOM. The mass of people chuckled at them, slowly growing used to the insanity that was their commanding officers.

But she was already gone, heading towards yet _another_ door—they swore they kept appearing.

"You'll find out eventually, Mr. Maxwell," she called back in a decidedly cheerful voice, a voice that promised that he would indeed, find out, and it would not be by means of a tour.

"I believe we will head to our own places of work as well, 02, Tahary," J said, the other scientists nodding. "Best of luck with this lot."

They vanished as well.

"What about you, Noin?" Sam asked. "Going to abandon us as well?"

She grinned at him. "Nope, I think I'll stick around to watch the fireworks."

"Right," Duo replied, before turning to face the audience once more. "Now, what you've all been waitin' for—question time! So ask your questions, but tell us your name and home base first. Go!"

Dead silence. Sam snickered quietly. "Really, it's okay to ask. We're not going to bite you," he added.

A hand crept up near the back.

"YES! A volunteer! What is your name, young grasshopper?" Duo crowed excitedly. Laughter rang out.

Nothing like good old fashioned laughter to get through to people.

"Umm...my name is Nick Stonekey, I come here from the Francisco base in America, and I wanted to ask, what exactly are you going to be teaching us, Commander Maxwell, Commander Tahary?"

Sam decided to step up and take this question. "Well first off, Nick, let us remind you as I believe we reminded you in your interview—call us Sam and Duo, we're not that stinking old. To answer your question—here's the good part of all of this. While Duo and I here both have skills to offer and teach, neither of us are the black-ops agents we're trying to train you to be. So we're going to be going through a lot of your training _with_ you."

A wave of murmurs swept through the room, just a hint of skepticism beneath them. Sure, they had all had their interviews with the two, but at the time most of them were still in a kind of shock over the job they were offered. None of them had ever really stopped to think about how qualified the two might be.

"Oi!" Duo yelled, effectively silencing the murmurs. "We're well aware of our flaws, thank ya very much. We're admittin' them, unlike a lot of other people. But the Lady chose us, so you'll just have ta get over it, yeah. Next question!"

Another hand came up, not nearly so hesitant. "Sasha Trafalgar, from New Sydney...Sam, Duo, are you single?"

Dead silence. Collective breaths were held as Sam's face twisted into the most interesting expression of shock and embarrassment, while Duo...raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I know I am, but I'm not sure about this guy over here. Love-machine, he is, can't stop him! How about it Sam; have ya been holdin' out on us? Any special ladies in your life?"

Flushing a shade of red that should have been physically impossible, Sam shook his head. "No..." he squeaked.

Noin snickered quietly in the background and from an unknown place pulled, yet again, the camera, even as the room burst into laughter and Sasha held her hand to her ears in a joking, "call me!" gesture.

FLASH.

They whirled. "Damnit, Noin, we destroyed that fuckin' camera! What the hell!" Duo exclaimed.

She grinned while looking at her new picture—Sam red as a tomato, steam almost visible rising from his face. Blackmailllll! "A woman never reveals her sources, Sam, Duo...and this is where I take my leave," she added quickly, as she saw Sam calming down and the two of them getting ready to lunge at her. "Bye!" she yelped, waving towards the crowd and vanishing faster than they knew she could move.

"We've got to find her stash," Sam told Duo, who nodded.

"Right! Movin' on! More questions! DAMNIT, STOP LAUGHIN', YA RATS!"

The questions continued for another half hour, people asking easily now that the tension had been broken. Sam and Duo traded off calling and answering, unless, of course, a question was directed specifically to them.

Sam could not believe some of the questions these people were coming up with—honestly, _why_ would they need to know whether they wore boxers or briefs?

Duo was used to the stupidity, though. He remembered some of the press conferences after the war before things died down. God, the mass stupidity astounded him.

Everything came to a head though, about a half hour in, when the questions were finally dwindling. A hand raised in the back of the room, just slightly hesitant.

"Yes?" Duo called, pointing to the nervous looking young man with ginger hair and brown eyes.

"Umm...I'm Garrett, Garrett Hartley...I come here from the Smoke Valley base in Washington, and I wanted to ask; weren't you a Gundam Pilot, Commander Maxwell?"

Duo stilled, breathe hitching...before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. He had honestly expected someone to ask this question a while ago, but it still came as a shock. Even those who hadn't known would have probably figured it out rather quickly—the scientists had called him 02 at least twice.

"Yes," he said shortly. "I was Gundam pilot 02. I piloted Deathscythe. I don't care if ya have a problem with it, if ya do ya can find your own way out. I may often regret what I did, but I do not regret the outcome, and I would not change it. There's your answer, Hartley, and everyone else who was wonderin' but was too much of a coward ta ask."

He fell silent, and any remaining good cheer was effectively killed. The mood was somber and subdued.

* * *

It was at that moment Noin deemed to poke her head back into the room, trying to figure out if it was safe to go back in.

She blinked.

Duo was glaring at the silent group, and Sam looked...stricken, like someone had killed his puppy.

Or something along those lines.

She decided to step in before someone ended up dead.

"What'd you do, you guys, kill someone? I haven't seen this look on Duo's face since...well, I don't think I have."

Cue collective jump of nervous guilty people.

She chuckled before turning towards Duo...who was now glaring at her."Duo, I believe you heard me lecture Dorothy before about scaring the newbies; would you like me to do the same to you? And don't forget—I have the camera."

He and Sam both paled.

"Sorry, everyone," Duo hastily said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sensitive subject, yeah. Anymore questions?"

Helllooo, dead silence. Sam snickered as well. Blunt, much?

"Right, guess not! Well, believe it or not, you all are going ta get your first mission, right now!"

Everyone perked up immediately, and another wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

Sam grinned wickedly. Oh, they were going to love this. "And do you know what said first mission is?" he continued loudly.

"It is—"

"—ta find—"

"Your bunks!"

Cue crickets.

"Yup," Duo cheerfully exclaimed. "This headquarters is, ta be blunt, a fuckin' maze! Even we haven't explored it all yet! But as far as we discovered there are ten rooms situated around it, each made for five people, because you'll eventually be put into five person teams! So on each of these doors is a list with five people on it! Your goal is ta find the door with your name on it—but there's a catch! Ya can't go in until you've found the other four meant ta be in your room! So I hope you've been introducin' yourselves, otherwise it's going ta be really hard!"

"This not only tests your navigation skills, but information gathering, some people-reading, ability to work together, and most of all, it's a great icebreaker," Sam added.

"And the first group ta get all five people into their room—at the same time—wins—"

Duo paused. "...Sam, what do they win?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"I dunno, Duo, I thought you knew!"

"I thought _you_ knew!"

They straightened. "Right, well, you'll win something," Sam said. "Moving on, should you fail to find all of your people and still enter the room, there will be consequences. Uhh...Duo, do we know those yet, or are those undecided too?"

"For now. I'm sure we'll figure out somethin'."

"Introduce them to Dorothy!" Noin called from where she had leaned against the wall to watch.

They both grinned widely. "Perfect! You'll go to Dorothy!" they said in synch. The audience shuddered—only a few minutes in the presence of the fork-browed woman was enough to scar them for life.

"All right, ya all have ten seconds ta figure out...somethin'. Whatever. Go."

And there goes the pandemonium again. Duo and Sam watched in poorly concealed amusement.

Ten seconds later—"FREEZE!"

They all froze. Some people fell over, but quickly picked themselves back up. It seemed most had been trying to introduce themselves to as many people as possible in ten seconds.

"In the words of a man from long before the colonies..." Duo began.

"Good luck—" Sam picked up the thread.

"—travel safe—"

"—and, well, he didn't actually say this part, but still—"

"Welcome to hell, chiblets," they chorused. "GO!"

* * *

...in the words of myself ten seconds ago, talking to my friend on facebook, "Holycrap I did it! It's done!"

Just warning you this author's note is going to be veryyyy long. I have a lot to say. Note—it's 10:28 P.M. I cannot be blamed for the coherency of this message.

First off, I apologize sincerely for the lateness of this chapter. It was, to be blunt, an absolute _bitch_ to write. I wrote a lot, got stuck, and by the time I finally buckled down and wrote said bitch, it was late and it took foreverrr to write.

I know most of you were looking forward to the training...but putting all that in would have taken me _another_ month and with all my procrastination already, I didn't think you'd want that. So I decided to hell with it and just chopped it off so I could give you guys something...and I managed to drag it out enough to make it as long as a regular chapter.

**Notes of interest having to do with the chapter:**  
- The last bit is a random reference to The Amazing Race. "Good luck...travel safe...go!"  
- As for chiblets, it got into my head and wouldn't leave. Thus, chiblets.  
- Sasha_ Trafalgar_—those of you who know anything about the French Revolution and Napoleon might recognize this. History class, enough said.

Please give lots of feedback on this chapter, I think it needs it.

**Notes of interest having nothing to do with the chapter:  
**- Most of my GW stories are now backed up on gundam-wing-universe. Unedited Word versions though.  
- I have, as nobody seems to have noticed, written a new GW oneshot called _Life Without You_. First attempt at shonen-ai, anyone? FEEDBACK, anyone?  
- Most of this AN was written on graph paper in a VERY boring Honors FST block class. Don't ask me to explain that. The complexity of my school astounds me.  
- Tried to use Duo as my topic for my semester website in Multimedia Tech. REJECTED. Too much violence, she says. Hetalia website, here I come...-sigh-  
- School has indeed started. A month or two in and it's finally making sense...xD

Ummm...I think I addressed everything. Ask any question you have in reviews, I'll likely answer, and if I'm missing any spaces, remember it's 10:39 and my spacebar is being evil. Comment on anything, I can take it. I'm well aware this chapter is pretty bad. Oh, and the next update will either be sometime this month, if I get the inspiration, or sometime at the beginning of December because next month is National Novel Writing Month and I will be utterly focused on those fifty thousand words. Sorry, but that's the way it is. Keep hoping, though!

Ciao, look out for the next chapter that doesn't have a name yet...

—Erin


	10. 08: It's an Uphill Slope

**Shadows of Yesterday**

**

* * *

**

CHAPTER EIGHT: IT'S AN UPHILL SLOPE

* * *

"Congratulations ta all of ya for successfully findin' your roommates and rooms...and it only took ya two fuckin' hours! Can ya hear my sarcasm?"

"I think they can, Duo."

"Oh, I know they can, Sam. Needless ta say, we have a lot of work ahead of us. Get some sleep, people...trainin' starts bright and early tomorrow mornin'."

* * *

**WEEK ONE**

* * *

CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG.

"WAKE UP, WAKE UP, C'MON YA IDIOTS MOVE IT, TRAININ' STARTS IN AN HOUR! IF YA WANT BREAKFAST AND/OR A SHOWER I SUGGEST YA MOVE, OTHERWISE YA WON'T FIND THEM IN TIME! WE'VE GOT A LONG DAY AHEAD OF US, MOVE OR I'LL SIC DOROTHY ON YA! YA PEOPLE ARE LIKE MOLASSES, I SWEAR, 4:30 IN THE MORNING IS NOT THAT FUCKIN' EARLY! "

"...Duo."

"WHAT, SAM!"

"...why do you have a megaphone?"

"BECAUSE IT'S AWESOME! GOD FUCKIN' DAMNIT, _MOVE_, YA SLUGS!"

"Just because _you're_ used to waking up on a dime at all hours of the day, Duo, doesn't mean they are. Cut them some slack!"

"We're trainin' them ta be soldiers, Sam, there's no room for slack. G got me up at _3:30 _every mornin' when he was trainin' me, this is slack by comparison. 'Sides, this is on the scientist's orders. Ya think I'd really be gettin' them up at 4:30 otherwise? But nooo, 4:30 they said, so I'm havin' fun while doin' it."

"...you're going to make them all hate us."

"I think that was accomplished the moment Dorothy graced them with her presence."

"...true."

* * *

"Welcome all, ta the first day of trainin'! Six months from now ya will be awesome, top-notch black-ops agents with fantastic ninja skills, but right now, ya suck! INTRODUCIN', your first teacher of the day, so nicely gracin' us with her presence at 5:30 in the mornin'—Lucrezia Noin!"

"...Duo Maxwell, you are a _dead_ man. What the _hell_ was the idea of dumping a bucket of water on me?"

"Aww, c'mon Noin..."

"I have to agree, Duo."

"Thank you, Sam—"

"—I mean, you could have done _so_ much better than a bucket of water. Bullhorn, yes?"

"Success! I have officially corrupted ya, Sam Tahary!"

"...we're doomed."

Sam sighed. It was only the first day, and already things were turning into a three ring circus. First Duo just had to go and wake up everyone—including him, Dorothy, Noin, Howard, and the Scientists—with a megaphone. A very, very _loud_ megaphone.

What he and by extension, Duo, had forgotten however, was that while they may not be as well-trained as they would be six months from now, these people were still Preventer's agents. And you didn't become a Preventer's field agent by looking pretty or flattery to your superiors. It took some skill.

So once they all finally grasped the situation, the trainees were actually rather quick to rouse, shower—because Duo had forgotten that the showers were in fact connected to the dorms in the middle of his megaphone-induced rant—and made their way to the mess hall.

Sam had taken subtle pity on a few who were rather lost and pointed them in the right direction. No one ever said he had to be cruel to the trainees, after all.

A little kindness would probably go a long ways towards them _not_ hating him and Duo at the end of the long, dark tunnel that would be these next six months.

A long, dark tunnel that was looking longer and darker with every second that passed...

Noin, at least, was a good sport and took everything in stride, starting the lesson with no more than a dark glare at Duo and Sam and a mouthed promise of 'camera' which made them pale before turning to address the recruits.

The two of them were rather proud that only a few of said recruits were yawning, and even those were doing it subtly.

"All right, as Duo here said, welcome to the first day of training. In case any of you have forgotten from yesterday, _and_ from Duo introducing me two minutes ago, I'm Lucrezia Noin. Feel free to call me Noin, I will _hurt_ you if you call me Lucrezia. Now, I've had several _longggg_ talks with the Scientists on how to go about training you lot, because they're the ones that have experience with this sort of thing. We—and by extension, Duo and Sam—have all come to a general agreement."

And she grinned at them, that scary shark grin that Une was so fond of and Duo and Sam were beginning to see the awesomeness of.

"You will all be redoing basic training. From scratch, from the ground up, until we deem you ready for the big guns."

Cue uproar. _No one_ is happy to be told that they will be completely redoing something from the beginning.

"OI, SHUT UP!" Duo and Sam yelled in tandem over the noise, which surprisingly brought it down to manageable levels once more.

"If you had bothered to listen further to Noin," Sam told them in a very condescending tone.

"Ya might have heard her explain exactly _why_ ya will be going through basic trainin' again," Duo finished.

Noin flashed them a grateful smile. "Thanks, you two." She turned back to the recruits. "Now, _as I was saying_, you will be redoing basic Preventer's training. However, I mean basic in the loosest sense of the word. You all went through the six months of Preventer's basic training. I'm sure you all have _fond _memories of it. However,"

There was that shark smile again.

"That is nothing compared to what the next month you'll bring to you. Take all of that training, that training that took you sixth months to complete, multiply it by ten and compact it into one measly month. Are you getting the picture now?"

Indeed they were. Pale faces could be seen throughout the room, minds going through flashbacks and coming up with conclusions as to just what horrors they would be facing.

Duo stepped forward, wanting to get a word in before people started panicking again. "Ya have ta realize this, ya people are good already. Ya had ta, _have_ ta have been for us ta have chosen you. As ordinary Preventer's agents ya were the best of the best, or had the potential ta be. But what we're askin' ya ta be is beyond that. We're askin' ya ta be the _elite_. _The best _of _the best_, the highest there is ta offer. And before ya can be trained ta be that, ya have ta have bodies that can take what it will _take_ ta become that. Ya were, are, the best. Now we're goin' ta make ya better. And that involves startin' from scratch."

Sam stepped forward as well, hiding his awe at his friend's speech. If there was one thing he was jealous of, it was Duo's ability to come up with speeches on the spot, and speeches that _worked_.

Of course, the fool hadn't realized yet that he too had that ability, and quite a good amount of it too.

"If if makes you feel any better at all," he told the crowd of recruits, smiling slightly as he saw a few familiar faces in them, faces that he hadn't taken the time to acknowledge the day before. Namely Caleb Adara and Lily Tanner, whom he noted with a secretive smirk, were standing right next to each other. "You remember how we told you yesterday that we're going to be going through a large amount of this training with you? Well, this is one of those things. Duo and I will be suffering right along with you for the next month. Though," he finished musingly, glancing at the other standing beside him. "I'm not sure exactly how much Duo here will be _suffering_, per say."

He grinned. "Stud muffin, he is."

There was a moment of almost shocked dead silence, and then Sam found a braided man wrapped around his neck like a python, wailing about how his baby was all grown up and was using his own humor against him.

Sam, for his part, merely shifted his weight to the other foot and rolled his eyes.

"Why he calls me his baby I will never know," he told the recruits with a long-suffering look. "I'm three years older than you, you bastard!" he hissed at the still wailing man.

FLASH.

Both instantly stiffened, hearing Noin's maniacal laughter behind them.

"Noin," Sam said.

"We are not even goin' ta ask where ya keep those things anymore," Duo continued, finally disentangling himself from Sam's neck.

"We don't want to know," they chorused.

Noin giggled evilly as she tucked the camera back to wherever it came from. "No, boys, you don't. Now, while you are pondering the mysteries of where I hide a camera when I am wearing nothing more than sweatpants, a t-shirt, and sneakers, go join your recruits. It's time for this lesson to start."

They rolled their eyes and went over to stand with the large group of recruits, noting with small, pleased smiles that a small circle actually _didn't _clear itself around them.

Noin stood in front of them and smirked. "So, this is how it's going to go for the next month," she told all of them, and watched as everyone's attention immediately snapped to her.

"You will be here at five-thirty, every morning unless I say otherwise, and I will not say otherwise very often. For today I will be running you through everything you are expected to do upon arrival, but after today you are expected to do it on your own. That will include stretching, running, and basic exercises such as sit-ups, pull-ups, jumping-jacks, push-ups, etc. Then we'll go into whatever plan I have for the day. It depends on what I and the Scientists decide you need that day. Duo and Sam," here she smirked. "Have no pull whatsoever except for suggestions, which we don't necessarily have to take."

"After my class you'll report to whatever class you have next on the schedules that should have been in your dorms this morning. Yes, this month will be focused on basic training, but that doesn't mean we'll be completely ignoring everything else. Basic training isn't just physical, it's also weapons and tactics and stealth and everything else. This is _everything_ you went through in basic training, intensified and condensed. A final note before we start, your schedules are subject to change at any time depending on what we judge your levels to be. We won't expect you to attend entire classes on subjects you've mastered; we'll just expect you to keep those skills sharp. Any questions?"

Surprisingly, no one had any questions. Though she had to glare at Duo when it looked like he might raise his hand just for fun.

"Right, then let's get started! First off, stretching...we don't want you to hurt yourselves, you know..."

"At least not that badly."

"Shut up, Duo."

"Shuttin' up."

* * *

The first week was hell. There was absolutely no other way to describe it.

It was a unanimous decision by all of the teachers—including Duo and Sam—at the end of day one that the first week would be spent on _nothing_ but physical prowess before they moved on to anything else.

Sam had _fond_ memories of his original Preventer's training, because even a desk jockey needed to know what he was doing, but they were a pale shadow compared to this.

He decided that Noin was evil incarnated, the devil's right-hand woman, the Queen of the Bitches, before day two was even out.

Even Duo had to agree with him. Despite being in top condition from fighting in two wars—and he had at least tried to stay in shape afterwards—it had been a long time since he'd had any actual, regimented training.

So he was better than most; that didn't mean he wasn't cursing Noin and all of her ancestors by the end of day three.

Let's not even go into how the rest of the recruits were feeling. Suffice to say—their days went like this.

Wake up. Shower. Eat. Train. Train. Train. Eat. Train. Train. Train. Eat. Train. Sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

And don't forget the fact that along with Noin, they also had to go to training with Dorothy, Howard, and the Scientists.

Of which Howard was only the slightest bit forgiving, and even then not that much.

...and then there was Dorothy.

There was really nothing to be said about Dorothy. Why could you say about a woman who was absolutely _fucking nuts?_

(In the oh-so-articulate words of Duo _and _Sam _and _99% of the recruits after day two, their first lesson with the psycho blonde.)

However, what scared them even more was that other 1%—the two recruits who got along absolutely _swimmingly_ with Dorothy.

Duo and Sam weren't even quite sure what their names were—hey, it's hard to remember fifty some people when you only met them for ten, fifteen minutes tops—and had instead stuck them with the moniker 'Dorothy's Minions,' which they—and by extension, Dorothy—took a little _too _well for their liking.

Everyone in the headquarters had learned to steer _well_ clear of the Interrogation chambers when those three locked themselves inside and things started exploding and maniacal laughter started floating out, lest they be captured by the Three Psychos and used as test subjects.

The first week passed in a haze of exercise, pain, and more reality checks on just how limited their bodies really were than anyone cared to count. Sleep was coveted—those that hadn't before very quickly learned how to forcibly fall asleep. Five spare minutes during the day was a miracle—most meals featured several people asleep at the tables, not even bothering to eat.

That lasted until day four, when they were all given a resounding tongue lashing by the Scientists on the importance of keeping their bodies rested (kind of impossible) and well-fed, or they would be feeling even more pain in very short order.

However, as the week moved into its later days, the recruits slowly but surely began to feel the difference it was making.

It wasn't very much—they had only been at it for a week. But sore muscles that had been gained at the

beginning of the week slowly began to heal, deep exhaustion became routine, and they found themselves able to go just a little bit farther each day in their training.

Ergo—instead of gasping in a death rattle by the end of 15 out of 30 laps, they managed to make it to maybe 16 or 17 before asphyxia set in.

Except for Duo. He had taken one look at Noin the first day, with G standing right behind her, grinning a really, _really_ creepy grin—how can an old man grinning _not_ be creepy?—and taken off down the track like a bat out of hell.

"You have 10 minutes, 02!" G called after him, cackling gleefully.

He was back in 9, panting and glaring for all he was worth.

"You've gotten slower, 02," was G's only comment, said so completely blasé that Sam was there a split second later, holding his friend back from murdering the mushroom-headed geezer.

"Arrghh! You—you—lemme _go_, Sam, I'm gonna kill the geezer! Damnit, G, when I get through with ya there will be _nothing left_, ya hear me! Not even your stupid mushroom hair! FUCKIN' HELL, TAHARY, LET ME GO!"

Sam sighed heavily and looked at Noin with a long suffering look as he struggled to contain the braided man who was like a snake. "Help me," he mouthed.

Damn bitch laughed at him. And took a picture. _Where the hell was she keeping that thing?_

He seriously considered letting Duo go, but then the insults coming out of his mouth got decidedly more...creative.

Sam paled and held on tighter.

He didn't know if that was possible and didn't _want_ to know if it was possible.

He just didn't want Duo be arrested for violating _several_ articles of the Geneva convention. Possibly all of them.

It was going to be a _longggggg _six months.

* * *

**MONTH ONE**

**

* * *

**

All good things and even bad things come to an end eventually and the base woke come Monday morning to realize that the Week from Hell was finally over—

—and the Month from Hell was only just beginning.

Having made it through the first week, the recruits finally discovered just what had had Duo cackling all week—discovered that the Scientists and Noin had in fact, been going easy on them.

"Keep running!" Noin yelled at them as she _breezed _by on the track, turning around to run backwards and grin smugly at them all. "You don't get to go to lunch until you finish all fifty laps!"

A loud groan rose from the group of running—not jogging, running—recruits, but they didn't pick up their pace. Noin raised an eyebrow.

"Did I mention that the pudding is in limited supply today?" she called out.

...sadly, this was indeed the motivation needed to get them to run faster.

"It's puddin'," Duo said by way of explanation later while eating some of the aforementioned substance in the division cafeteria—chocolate—as though that explained everything.

Funnily enough, it almost did.

* * *

"Anndddd...kick! Punch! Strike! Dodge! Sweep! Chop! Kick! Drop! Sweep! Up! Punch! HOLD!"

The group froze as Master O barked out his last order, hardly daring to breath—let alone move—as the intimidating man began moving among the rows of recruits, correcting stance, form, and technique.

"Hold your arm higher, it will allow you more downward force with your next move—you there, feet farther apart, otherwise your opponent will easily overbalance you..."

They had quickly discovered that the only time Master O was even remotely talkative was when speaking of martial arts. Usually to correct them.

He suddenly noticed something rather odd.

"You!" he barked at one of the recruits, noticing the flinch and making a mental note to tell the other Scientists they needed to work on reaction to loud noises. "Relax. What is your name?"

The man breathed as sigh of relief as he relaxed out of the uncomfortable pose, though he still stood straight. "Caleb Adara, Master O."

On the other side of the room, Duo perked up and subtly twisted his head, trying to see over the heads of the other recruits to the one he remembered very clearly from the interviews and that Master O had obviously taken an interest in.

"Have you had previous instruction in hand-to-hand combat, outside of Preventer's training?"

Caleb nodded. "I've been in lessons since I was young, sir, in multiple disciplines. I have a black belt in judo and taekwondo, and a third degree black belt in karate, along with first-hand experience in several forms of street fighting.

On the other side of the room, Duo's—and Sam's—jaw dropped. Duo tried furiously to remember Caleb's file, trying to remember if there was anything mentioned about his skill in martial arts.

Now that he thought about it, hadn't there been a mention near the end of the file? Just a blurb, but still there?

Damn had this man been underestimated. Duo made a mental note not to do it again.

Master O looked at Caleb thoughtfully. "Continue," he said finally. "But I would like to see you spar against 02 later."

(It was commonly accepted now that the Scientists did not call Duo anything but 02.)

Caleb nodded, slightly relieved. He thought he was going to be yelled at..."Yes sir," he replied, and fell easily back into position.

O stepped back. "Again!" he called out. "Anddd...kick! Strike! Punch..."

* * *

"Duo Maxwell! Samuel Tahary! The point is to improve your aim by hitting the goddamn _targets_ with the paintball guns, NOT EACH OTHER. What if those were _real_ guns, which thankfully, we decided not to trust you with?"

The two men froze, expressions on their faces like that of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The rest of the small class snickered at them, without remorse.

Due to the need to get through everything in a month, the group of fifty odd people had been split into 'classes' of approximately ten, which rotated through the different teachers as the day wore on for training in the different skills.

Despite best efforts to separate them, Sam and Duo had still managed to end up in the same group and refused not to be in the same group.

Thus the current predicament in their guns and ammunitions training, in which Noin had also taken charge. It had been decided to use paintball guns in order to more accurately judge their aiming skills, as in real life combat they wouldn't be aiming for single stationary targets. They'd be aiming at multiple targets, always changing and shifting, and it would be nearly impossible to tell whose bullet caused the fatal blow.

And so, paintball guns. Which all of the recruits, not just Sam and Duo, were having farrrr too much fun with.

Well, actually, Sam was glaring at Noin rather fierce and annoyed-like.

"Don't. Call. Me. That!" he hissed, and advanced slowly on the rather nervous looking woman, paintball gun in hand.

At least, until Duo put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened, and then he smirked.

Before anyone could blink, Sam had whirled around and shot every single one of the moving targets, perfect kill-shot for each.

He turned back around slowly, and resisted the urge to blow invisible smoke from the barrel of the gun. "I think I pass," he growled, and stalked out of the room.

The sudden dead silence was broken by Duo's quiet chuckling.

"Did I mention that Sam hates bein' called by his full name? And that's he's an inhumanly good shot for bein' a desk jockey?"

"I think you failed to mention that," Noin replied faintly, and made a mental note—along with the other nine who were there—to not piss off Sam.

Ergo—never call him Samuel. Ever.

As Duo discovered the one time he did, Sam Tahary has a sadistic revenge streak a mile wide. Several miles wide.

...but that's a story for another time.

The recruits were just disappointed they didn't get to see their commanding officers go at each other with paintball guns.

* * *

The base was dark and deathly silent. But not quite dead...shadowed figures snuck through the darkened hallways, or at least tried to sneak.

A loud cackle echoed through the hallways and caused a collective flinch, especially from those closest to it.

Duo Maxwell, master of stealth and scaring the bejeezus out of anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path, was on the move somewhere in their sector.

They were doomed, but they were still going to try.

In the same sector, Sam rolled his eyes as he slid silently along a wall, cocking an ear for any suspicious movement.

"Overdramatic much, Duo?" he murmured.

"Not when it works," a dark voice said directly behind him, and he leapt a mile high, a strangled yelp emerging from his throat—strangled because Duo had clapped his hand over his mouth.

"Oi, Tahary, shut up! This is a stealth exercise in case you've forgotten, ya dope!"

Sam nodded his assent and the hand was removed from his mouth. "How's it going?" he asked, barely audible.

He caught a glimpse of Duo's Cheshire grin in the darkness, white against the shadows. "Pretty well, actually. I think most of them have gotten used ta my random cacklin'. And some of them have some pretty decent skills, after all. The others...well they'll get there, eventually. You're not half-bad yourself, Tahary, actually. Might not have seen ya if not for your little insult ta my awesomeness back there. "

Sam rolled his eyes again. "I'd like to think so, considering how much G's been drilling this crap into our heads for the last week. If I had a nickel for every time he told me, 'don't even breathe, Tahary!' I'd be a very rich dead man."

"Don't know about the rich part, but you certainly got the 'dead' part right," a voice with a soft southern accent drawled behind them, and both men stiffened as they felt the touch of knives to their necks.

"So do we get bonus points for finding and successfully sneaking up on the Commanders themselves?" asked another voice, this from the one currently holding Duo hostage.

Duo frowned; the second voice sounded nearly the same as the first, only it was distinctly...feminine.

"Sophie and Steven McDonald, is that you two?" he asked, referring to the pair of fraternal twins that he and Sam had asked to join upon first sight of the devilish smirk the two seemed to wear on default.

(Of course they performed a proper interview, just to make sure the two didn't have a legitimate _reason_ for that smirk...like a secret cache of dead bodies...)

"One and only, Boss," Steven replied from behind Sam. "Well, two and only, but you get the gist. So, bonus points, no?"

Duo sighed. "Yeah, yeah, bonus points, ya rascals! Now can ya please remove the knives from our jugulars?"

"Sure thing, Boss!" Sophia chirped cheerfully, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief as the blade vanished from his neck, hearing Duo do the same.

Devil twins and knives: NOT a good combination.

"How'd you two sneak up on us anyways? Tahary there I can understand, but—"

"Oi! I take offense to that!" Sam yelped.

"Oh, stuff it, Sam. Ya know it's true."

"Well, Boss, it might have something to do with the fact that, you know, you two were gossiping like a couple of school girls with no regard for your surroundings."

"Very quiet school girls, of course, but to these well trained ears..." Sophia finished.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Haha, very funny ya two. And what did we tell ya about callin' us boss?"

"That you love it and that we should even go farther by calling you "your holy omnipotence of awesomeness?"

Sam and Duo blinked. "As much as that would be rather cool," Sam told him exasperatedly. "It would be kind of a mouthful in battle...and we told you _not_ to call us boss."

"Sure thing, Boss," Sophia quipped.

Duo slapped a palm to his face. "I give up," he muttered. "Whatever, you two, you've got your bonus points and your jollies, now scat. We're still in the middle of a stealth exercise."

"Scatting!" they chorused, and vanished into the shadows, mischievous chuckles echoing behind them.

"Those two are going to be the death of us," Sam whispered, poking his head around the corner to make sure no one else was nearby.

"That they are. Now let's go, Tahary, we've got us some nooblets ta find and face ta save."

* * *

"Now, there really is no proper way to interrogate people so long as you get the information you're looking for...of course, I am rather partial to the violent course of action, including—"

"Dorothy Catalonia, you teach a single one of them—_besides_ your minions because I know they're already too far gone to save from your clutches—how to use torture, I will _personally_ see to it that your head is displayed on a pike above Preventer's HQ for all to see, and I will feel no remorse whatsoever."

"...hypocrisy doesn't suit you, Mr. Maxwell."

"Catalonia, I am deadly serious. I am perfectly willing to brave your Chamber of Terror to find an axe."

"Mr. Taharrryyyy..."

"Switzerland. But I agree."

"...can I at least teach them how to properly _threaten _torture?"

"..."

* * *

The end of the first month was marked by very little. An increase in training, more variety in classes, higher expectations, another red x on the mental—and some non-mental—calendars of the recruits, a slight decrease in the number of idiocy-related injuries Sally was forced to treat and...the loss of their first recruit.

Duo and Sam were passing one of the rare 'free hours'—because they all needed free time else they would go insane and _then_ where would the division be?—in what they had deemed 'their office'—in reality a box-like room that they put two desks and the swivel chairs from Conference Room 1-C—just chatting about anything and everything, when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Duo called, twirling animatedly in the swivel chair to face the door.

The knob turned and the door opened, revealing a nervous looking young man with brown hair and brown eyes, who twisted the hem of his shirt in his hands as he stepped into the room.

Duo frowned. He remembered this man, but couldn't quite put a name to the face...

"Robert Hewitt?" Sam asked, and the light bulb went on over Duo's head. That was his name!

"Yes, sir," the now-named Robert mumbled, and that frown spread to Sam's face.

"Sit down, Robert," Sam told him gently. "We're really not going to bite. Use one of the awesome swivel chairs that we filched just for this purpose."

Robert chuckled as he sat down, though the sound was quiet and weak.

"So what can we do for ya, Robert?' Duo asked after the man had settled into the chair. "This obviously isn't a social call, the way you're actin'."

"No," Robert agreed, quietly, staring at his lap. "No, it's not...Commander Maxwell, Commander Tahary..."

"Duo and Sam," Sam corrected him. "Like we said during your interview, Robert." He was beginning to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Robert shook his head. "Familiarity...no, sirs. I highly doubt you'll want my familiarity...not after this."

Duo was sensing it too, now. "And what exactly is 'this,' Robert?" he asked softly.

"I...I don't think I can do this anymore," Robert said, after a pause. "I...just don't think I'm cut out for this, after all."

Sam and Duo exchanged a glance.

"We wouldn't have chosen you if you didn't think you were cut out for this, Robert," Duo told him, completely serious. "And you've done well in the last month...even better than we expected most of you to do. Why do you think you can't do this?"

Robert shook his head again. "It's not that I can't do this...I'm pretty sure that if I were to stick it out these six months, I'd do fine, maybe even be one of the better agents, and I'd probably be assigned to a team and spend the rest of my career performing high-risk, high-paying missions. But...after this month, going through what we've been through, listening to the Scientists and Miss Noin and especially you, Commander Maxwell, the few stories you've told us about the war and what it was like, being this kind of agent...I don't think that's what I want for my life."

"Did we scare you off?" Sam asked.

"No, of course not...just made me realize what I was already thinking somewhere in the back of my mind. My job as a preventer's agent before...it may not have been the highest paying, or the most exciting, I might not have gotten to do much...but I was happy being able to do what I was able to do. I don't want to be elite...I just want to be normal. As normal as a Preventer's agent can be."

Sam glanced at Duo again. They had discussed the possibility...but they honestly weren't sure what they were supposed to do in this situation.

Duo paused for a long moment, looking thoughtful. "...all right," he said finally. "I...I understand where you're coming from, Robert. We'll release you from your duties as a member of the division and inform Une that she's to give you your former position back, if not a higher one due to your recompletion of the Preventer's training at an even higher level."

"Thank you for giving us a chance," Sam told him, mentally nodding at what Duo had told the man. It made sense.

Robert nodded gratefully at them. "Of course. And thank you, sirs, for everything. Giving me a chance, accepting my decision...and giving me the training you did. I'll be able to do what I want to do that much better because of it. I wish you and the rest of the division the best of luck."

"Best of luck to you as well, Robert," Duo told him. "Wherever you decide to go and whatever you decide to do with your life."

"I'll be out within the hour, sirs," Robert told them, standing. "Again, thank you for everything."

He held his hand out, and both Sam and Duo shook it firmly. After giving them one sharp nod, Rlobert turned to leave. However, just before he went out the door, Duo called after him.

"Robert?"

Robert turned. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"Remember this, if nothing else—

"—this division doesn't exist," Sam finished.

Robert grinned and gave them both a sharp salute. "What division, sirs?" he asked, and vanished out the door.

Duo sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Crazy month," he muttered.

"The craziest," Sam agreed, also flopping back to stare at the ceiling.

"...we gotta tell Noin and the others, ya know."

"Later."

"...yeah..._crazy_ month."

"Agreed."

"...only five more to go."

"Don't remind me."

* * *

**MONTH TWO**

**

* * *

**

A high pitched shrieking ringing woke the entirety of the base on day three of the second month and made Lily Tanner shriek and nearly bash her brains out on the white porcelain floor of the showers.

After a moment of hopeless confusion, she fell easily into what she termed 'battle mode' from years of experience in the wars. Whether this was a drill or not—which it likely was—something was up.

She toweled off in less than twenty seconds and was dressed in t-shirt and sweats in another twenty. She threw her soaking hair into a ponytail as she ran into her dorm, where her other four roommates were running around mostly like headless chickens.

"Oi!" she barked, mentally wincing. Oh yeah—full battle mode. Damn she thought she had conquered that after the last time she scared her flighty husband half to death. Thankfully, though, they listened.

"Get dressed and grab your guns," she told them, grabbing her own as she did and making sure it was loaded. After a couple of weeks of target practice, most of the recruits had been trusted—or retrusted, in a lot of their cases—to use guns and not shoot someone because they snuck up on them or the like. She had never been more thankful the day she was allowed to pick hers up again.

Recognizing that Lily was the calmest of them and least likely to get them killed if this _was_ real, the two men and two women that made up her dorm room quickly complied.

(No one there was particularly modest anymore, after a few...exercises that the Scientists had made them perform, citing that they couldn't be halfway across the base from their team if something happened.)

"What do you think is happening?" Sasha Trafalger whispered as she slid into place beside Lily at the door.

"Probably some sort of drill," Lily whispered back, gesturing sharply at the other three to hurry up even as she cracked the door and glance up and down the hallway, checking for threats. "Duo and Sam seem like the type to plan something like this without warning...and even if they didn't, Noin and the Scientists probably would. Even so, we should treat this like it's real...on the small off-chance that it is, though I highly doubt it considering no one knows we exist and we're currently three stories beneath the Preventer's HQ. Are you three ready yet?" she snapped quietly at the others.

"Yes," Garrett Hartley hissed as he too joined them, along with Nick Stonekey and Sophia McDonald.

"Let's go," Lily whispered and gestured for them to move out into the hallway. "Sophia, you're best at stealth, scout ahead. Garrett, take the rear; Nick and Sasha, flank on the sides. Let's move towards the main atrium, that's probably our best bet."

They all moved to comply without a word; sometimes, the best form of assent is silent obedience.

Lily was hyperaware, head snapping to every sound, as they began to slowly weave their way through the maze of hallways towards the atrium.

They were maybe halfway there when Lily saw Sophia's hand snap up straight up ahead, telling them to stop. A moment later, she knew why; she could hear voices.

Motioning for Garrett, Nick, and Sasha to stay where they were she moved up to join Sophia, listening to the whispers they could hear around the next corner.

"...hear...anything?"

"...no...mouse..."

"...drill? cruel...punishment..."

"need it...stealth..."

"keep going..."

Lily noticed Sophia's eyes widen out of the corner of her own, and turned to her to mouth, _Who?_

_My twin! _Sophia mouthed back, and Lily's eyes widened too before she gestured the woman forward.

"Steven!" Sophia hissed, poking her head around the corner. "Steven! Is that you?"

"Sophia?"

"Yes, you dolt! Is your team with you?"

"Yeah, all of them."

"Bring them all around here, my team's here too!"

Lily turned and motioned for the other three to join them, and a few moments later there were ten recruits in the hall, all trying to figure out what was going on while being as quiet as possible.

"Think it's a drill?" Steven asked Lily.

"Most likely, but we're not taking chances; we were heading for the atrium, what about you?"

"Same, it seemed most likely. Join forces?"

Lily briefly weighed the possible consequences of having too many people together at once before nodding. "Sure, it may increase our chances of being found but it also increases our chances of finding any finders before they find us. Who do you have?"

Steven glanced back towards where the rest of their groups were quietly conversing, sharing strategy. "Caleb Adara, Sara Reed, and Haley Beckett; we had Robert Hewitt but..."

"Ah," Lily made a small noise of agreement; Duo and Sam had announced at one of the meals earlier that week Robert Hewitt's decision to leave. No explanation had been given, and no one asked; they all knew that black-ops just wasn't for everyone.

"He hasn't been replaced, so we're just dealing as four people. Makes it a bit easier to sneak, actually, but easier to be snuck up on...the guy was a whiz at stealth."

"All right," she replied. "Well, we should probably keep moving, if this is a drill they're bound to have people prowling; it's best to stay on the move."

"Right," he whispered back, then a bit louder to the joined groups. "All right, everyone, we're going: same standard formation, just double up. Point, rear, flank—we have to keep moving..."

They organized quickly and began the trek towards the atrium once more. Lily jumped when Steven poked her shoulder a couple of hallways later, fixing him with an annoyed look.

_What?_ her gaze seemed to ask. He had the decency to look sheepish, before he gestured questioningly at her hair—more specifically, at the fact that it was still dripping wet.

She rolled her eyes, before miming the act of sleeping, slicing a hand across her throat to indicate that she _couldn't_, and then fluttering her fingers in the air like rain to show that she had taken a shower. He nodded understanding and turned back to scanning the halls.

Unfortunately, in the dark, the base was even more like a maze than it was during the day, meaning that Lily had absolutely no idea where they were after a couple more hallways, only that they were heading in a vaguely central direction.

"Any idea where we are?" she breathed to Steven who was walking beside her, and leveled a glare at him when he smothered a snicker.

"Sorry," he breathed back. "Um, I do believe that if we go right next intersection and then take two lefts, we'll be in the atrium."

"Thanks," she muttered, and then went back to scanning the darkened hallways and rather pointedly ignoring him.

Sophia and Caleb, the two point scouts, were the first to reach the ledge that overlooked the atrium. (They were on the second floor.)

"Sophia, do you two see anything?" Lily called softly, the rest of the group waiting with bated breath as the two figures glances up and down and sideways and peered over the railing to the floor below.

Lily saw Sophia gesture for her to come forward and snuck out of the hallway to stand beside her at the railing.

"Down there," Sophia murmured, and Lily let a wide, scary grin spread across her face, because down below—

"I spy with my little eye," she sang softly. "Two commanders, one psycho, one sadist trainer, and legasp, no insane Scientists. We're in luck."

Gesturing the rest of the two groups forward, she murmured the plan to them. "Steven, take your group and sneak around the far staircase, you have fewer people so you have a better chance of getting there unheard and unseen. We'll take the near staircase, everyone try to get as close as possible; it looks like they're keeping a lookout so it's highly unlikely we'll be able to sneak up on them. Got it?"

Everyone nodded and they split, the two groups slinking off to their respective staircases.

Lily led the charge—er, creep—down the nearest staircase crouched low to avoid being seen over the railing, poking her head up every now and then to make sure they hadn't been seen.

They miraculously made it to the main floor unseen, but now came the problem of the fifteen feet of empty, open space between the stairs and the common area in the center.

"The shortest distance between two points is a straight line," she murmured, and, catching the eye of Steven across the atrium, also at the bottom of the staircase, gestured for all of them to move forward—

—wait, weren't there four people in the center only a minute earlier?

"Boo."

And then—"Shit, woman!"

Duo stood absolutely still and wide-eyed as he found a gun pointed at his forehead, courtesy of one Lily Tanner. A shriek echoed across the atrium as Sam completed his spooking of Steven's team, though much more successfully than Duo.

Lily's eyes widened, and she let her gun lower a fraction—only to find a gun pointed at her head as well. Then the rest of her team got their act together and aimed their guns at Duo—only to find themselves at gunpoint courtesy of Noin. On the opposite side of the room, the same took place with Sam and Dorothy, though Sam was eyeing the fork-browed woman with the suspicion that she actually _would _shoot the recruits.

Duo grinned brightly. "Ah, nothin' says 'black-ops recruits in trainin'' like a good old Mexican standoff, don't ya think? Congrats, people, your two teams are the only teams ta pass on the merit of the fact that ya are the only ones who have thus far made it here."

"The rest are apparently in the middle of being psychologically tormented by our ever-loveable Scientists, who knew they had such large sadistic streaks?" Sam called from the across the room.

"I did," Duo called back. "All right, guns away people, otherwise someone is actually goin' ta shoot someone in the head by accident."

Lily rolled her eyes and holstered her gun. "Don't pull crap like that with me, Commander Maxwell," she replied, sweet as an angel. "Or else I'll put a bullet in a _much_ more unpleasant place than your head. Hair trigger, my dear sir—hair trigger."

"You're tellin' me," Duo replied, rolling his eyes right back. "Seriously, though, congrats ta all of ya, and thank ya, actually; this proves that we're doin' somethin' right."

"How did you get behind us, anyways?" Garrett asked curiously, even as the two groups converged in the middle of the room—Dorothy being given a wide berth, as she _still_ looked like she harbored some intent to shoot them all quite gleefully.

Duo grinned maniacally. "Trade secret, man...that you'll learn in time. They didn't call me Shinigami for nothin' durin' the war, ya know. So, sit, sit, listen ta your fellow comrades be tormented while ya revel in the knowledge that ya are just that good."

"...or are we just that bad?" Sam asked, pondering, as they sat and began to snicker at the...interesting conversations coming through the radios.

"Tahary?"

"Yes, Duo?"

"Go stuff yourself in a toilet or somethin'."

"...I'll add it to my to-do list."

* * *

After the spectacular failure of a drill, stealth training was increased ten-fold and the recruits were warned that drills like that _would_ keep happening, and that they would be every night if there wasn't improvement.

Suffice to say, there was improvement. _Rapid_ improvement. Other than stealth training and more teamwork sessions, there was also an interesting few hours spent learning how to get in and out of full combat uniform in under thirty seconds—because if they could do that, any other outfit would be a piece of cake.

After another couple of drills, the vast majority of the teams were making it at least as far as the atrium (or whatever destination was assigned) and Duo, Sam and the others couldn't really fault them for not making it farther than that, because they had really grown to expect the arrival of the teams and when you have about fifty people trying to sneak up on the same place, it becomes...difficult.

However, the most exciting moment so far had come when Duo had finally snuck surface-side to break into Une's office and find the plans for their base, in hopes of finally finding a goddamned _map._

He found a map. But even better than a map, he finally discovered the purpose of that strange metal ring in the middle of the main atrium. He had simply _stared_ at the document in his hands, a gob smacked expression on his face, before letting out a whoop—uncaring that it would alert anyone on the floor to his presence—and literally _sprinting_ for the elevators that would take him back to the base.

He could barely hold still as he waited for the elevator to descend the several stories beneath Preventer's HQ—unaware that his whoop had caught the attention of a small group of people that had been heading towards Une's office...

The doors opened and he practically tumbled into the atrium. "You!" he barked at a recruit who just happened to be passing through the room. "Find Tahary, Noin, Catalonia, and the Scientists—tell them ta get here _now!"_

"Yes sir!" the wide-eyed woman replied, and darted out one of the doors, presumably in the direction of whatever class she had been heading back to that would hold all the people that Duo was looking for.

Duo, meanwhile, stood in front of the metal ring with a gleeful grin on his face. "Oh the fun we shall have with this..." he muttered, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist. "Now...how do I work this thing?"

Ten minutes later, when Sam and the others arrived, they found an exceedingly hyper Duo bouncing on the balls of his feet, standing in front of them metal ring and grinning like a fool.

"Duo Maxwell, what insanity have you perpetrated _now_?" Noin asked exasperatedly. "We were all—except the Scientists, no clue what they were doing—in the middle of Howards lesson on Mobile Suit technology and repairs to mechanical systems."

Duo rolled his eyes. "I'm so terribly sorry for tearin' ya away from such a rivetin' lecture, but I thought ya should know that not only did I find a fuckin' _map_ for this base, finally, I have finally discovered the purpose of this ring-thing here!"

"Really?" Sam asked, curious, and actually quite relieved to be taken away from Howard's lecture. The man obviously knew what he was doing, but he seemed to forget that 99% of the rest of them had no clue what he was talking about. Sam wasn't even quite sure of the purpose of his lessons, seeing as Mobile Suits were at that point in time, illegal. "What is it, then?"

"Yes, 02, please enlighten us as to why you are acting more like a buffoon than usual," G said sarcastically.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Hold your horses, I'm gettin' there. I present ta ya..."

He leaned down and pressed a button on the side of the ring that none of them had noticed before.

"A hologram projector," he said proudly, and they all watched with wide eyes as pixilated light began to swirl above the ring before coalescing into a three-dimensional image of the Earth.

"What on Earth..." Dorothy murmured.

"It's more advanced than any hologram technology I've seen," Duo told them. "There's some sort of magnetic field, allowing manipulation of the image."

He reached out to demonstrate, and they all watched as the Earth spun and rotated and zoomed in and out beneath Duo's 'touch.'

"Imagine the possibilities," J said, stepping forward to examine the image and poke at it with his claw. "This would allow for tracking of targets, of our own agents on missions, real time tracking of any situations we need to keep our eyes on...this is a huge asset."

"Way ta state the obvious, J," Duo replied, rolling his eyes. "For now, of course, we don't really have a use for it. But that's a good thing, because we can spend the next five months figurin' out just what makes this thing tick and just how much we can do with it, and then we'll be able ta use it properly when this division finally goes live."

"Wicked," Sam breathed, staring at the floating image. Then another thought occurred to him. "Hey, Duo, you said you found a map, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Couldn't we figure out a way to program that into this?"

"Probably," Duo replied, turning evaluative eyes on the hologram.

"Well, as interesting as this is, I do believe we should be heading back to Howard's lecture," Noin said, sighing audibly. "Duo, you already know everything he's talking about, stay here with Sam and start tinkering with that projector, you and I can teach Sam about Mobile Doll systems and stuff later, in terms that Mr. Desk Jockey here can understand."

"Hey!" Sam protested, though it was halfhearted at best.

Duo grinned. "Will do, Noin," he told her, then turned with a wicked grin to Sam. "Now, Sam, Mobile Suits and Dolls are nothin' like the little dolls ya used ta play with as a small child...they are big and made of metal, and will crush ya like an ant...your Barbie dolls wouldn't stand a chance."

Noin and Dorothy snickered as they backed away—unsurprisingly, the Scientists were already gone.

"Max_well_," Sam growled, glaring at the braided man.

"Yes, Sam?" Duo sang, rocking on the balls of his feet.

"You—you...nevermind. I give up."

"Always the best choice. Now get over here, we've got a hologram thingy ta crack and a map ta scrutinize before Une discovers it's missin'."

* * *

"We have offices?"

"We have a rec room?"

"There are bathrooms over _there_?"

"What's that hallway, there?"

"...Duo, I think that's a sewage pipeline..."

"Oh...well, in my defense, that's a rather large sewage pipeline...is this map drawn ta scale?"

* * *

Unfortunately, the discovery of the missing plans was the catalyst needed for Une to do what she had been planning to do for a month and a half now—visit the division.

It's funny how easily you forget people even when they're just a few stories below your feet.

It was with great trepidation that Une stepped into the elevator and turned the key, and began the descent to the division HQ.

* * *

Garrett Hartley was the first to know that Une was visiting their headquarters. Having just gotten out of Dorothy and Duo's joint session on how to properly _avoid_ interrogation by an enemy—Garrett had discovered he had a natural affinity for the same talent Duo possessed; twisting the truth without lying—he was just passing through the top level of atrium when he happened to glance down and see the familiar bun-haired form of the Commander step out of the elevator.

He paled. "Oh shit," he whispered—and promptly turned and sprinted back the way he had come.

Une looked up when she heard a door slam above her, but saw nothing, and so shrugged and continued on her way, heading towards the large gymnasium that she knew most of the recruits were likely to be in.

Because of course Lady Une knew the division like the back of her damned hand, while she left the division itself to sweat it out for a month and a half without a _map._

_

* * *

_

"DUO! SAM!" Garrett yelled as he slammed back into the room, catching the two who were helping Dorothy to clean up from the earlier lesson completely off guard.

Duo looked at the man who had come skidding to a halt in front of them—noting with pride that he was _not_ panting—in confusion. "Garrett? What is it?"

"Une," the man said, and Sam snapped up where he was gathering some papers off the floor. (Dorothy could be rather...passionate when it came to her favorite subject.) "What? Une?"

"What about Une, Garrett?" Duo asked.

"She's here! Heading this direction!"

Duo's eyes widened. "Oh shit," he said quite succinctly, unknowingly echoing Garrett from earlier. "Shit, shit, _shit..._this must be one of those surprise visits she was talkin' about. Oh shit."

"Really, Duo, you haven't seen me for a month and a half and that's _all_ you can say? 'Oh shit?'"

Too late.

Duo whirled to face the door and the highly amused woman standing just inside it, while behind him Sam stood sort of...frozen, Garrett backed away, and Dorothy snickered.

Oh she did love a good confrontation.

"Uh...hi, Lady Une, how ya doin'?" Duo asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm doing fine, Duo, absolutely dandy. Did you know I discovered that someone had broken into my office and stolen several _top secret_ documents?"

Duo's eyes widened in false innocence, and behind him Sam too doubled over with snickers. "Really? Whoever would do such a terrible thing, M'lady?"

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Oh, I'm not sure, but I do believe I have an idea," Lady Une replied as she stalked closer, causing Duo to gulp. "In fact, I do believe he's standing right in front of me. Long brown hair in a braid, violet eyes, fondness for wearing black? You wouldn't happen to know him, would you?"

Duo faked pondering. "Hm...that description _does_ ring a bell..."

Une rolled her eyes. "I know it was you Duo—congratulations on being the first and only person to successfully break into my office and actually get away with something. My only question; _why_ exactly did you feel the need to steal the plans and information for your own division when you could have just _asked_?"

"Because it was more fun?" he offered. Une slapped a hand to her face.

"Of course..." she muttered. "Only you, Duo, only you."

"Would you expect anything else?" Sam asked, stepping up to stand beside Duo. Behind them, a scary smile from Dorothy had Garrett helping her with the rest of the cleanup, not wanting to incur the wrath of the psychotic blonde.

"No...and I actually thank you for that, Duo, because it finally gave me a reason to do what I had been meaning to do for a while...check on the progress of the division."

"Really? Well, what ya see here is the aftermath of one of our interrogation classes, this one for when _you're_ the one _under_ interrogation, but if you'll step this way for a couple of minutes and into our—"

_Glare._ "Ahem."

"_Newly_ discovered offices, we'll give ya an update on how our lovely little division is farin'. Dorothy, Garrett, you good here?"

"Just fine, Mr. Maxwell!" Dorothy sang cheerfully. "I'm sure Mr. Hartley here doesn't mind helping with the rest of the cleanup, do you Mr. Hartley?"

She turned wide, deceptively innocent eyes on the other man.

"N-no, o-of course n-not," he stuttered, and Duo clapped his hands.

"Perfect! Now, if you'll be so kind, M'Lady?"

And he and Sam vanished out the door along with Lady Une...leaving one terrified Garrett to the mercies of Dorothy Catalonia.

Pity him.

* * *

"Was that really a wise decision?" Une asked as they walked away from the large gymnasium.

Sam shrugged. "Eh, he'll live. Dorothy has yet to actually physically hurt anyone, though as for psychologically..."

"Ask us no questions and we'll tell ya no lies," Duo inserted, grinning widely. "Did ya know that two of the recruits actually _like_ Dorothy?"

Une raised an eyebrow again. "Really? Who are these people that I missed this obvious discrepancy in their psych evaluations?" she asked sarcastically.

"We call them 'The Minions,'" Sam told her. "Duo, does anyone actually know their names?"

Duo shrugged. "No idea. I suppose we should...but that's an endeavor for another time. And here we have our newly discovered offices!"

Another sarcastic glare that caused more raised eyebrows. "And what have I done to deserve such animosity?" Une asked.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Denied us a map of this place for a fuckin' month and a half. Our office _before_ the discovery of this hallway—"

He gestured down the long hallway only recently discovered, which had approximately twenty offices lining it. They would later be occupied by the official teams, but for now they were only occupied by Duo and Sam.

"—was a tiny hole in the wall with a table and the swivel chairs ya may or may not have noticed missin' from Conference Room 1-C."

Une rolled her eyes right back. "Excuse me for believing you capable of the mental capacity to figure out the layout of an underground structure that only extends _so far_."

"Whatever...anyways, in, in, don't be shy, into our humble abode."

Une stifled a chuckle as Duo shooed her into the room like a busy housewife and by the looks of Sam, he was holding back his laughter as well.

"And we even managed ta get the swivel chairs in here!" Duo exclaimed excitedly, as Une looked around. It had been quite a while since she had been down here—in fact, the last time she had seen these rooms in particular was after their completion, over a year ago.

Two desks, one on either side of the room, the front of each facing the center, each already covered in person knick-knacks and paperwork; two swivel chairs, obviously the ones filched from the conference room; four filing cabinets, two for each desk; three bookshelves, one for each desk and one in between, and a low table in the center with a couple of chairs scattered around it. All in all, a nice office.

"So, Lady Une," Sam asked her as they all took a seat around the low table. "What would you like to know?"

"Well, just how is everything going in general, mostly. You've been down here for a month and a half and I've heard barely a peep except for Robert Hewitt who decided to leave. Is everyone doing all right with the training? Getting along with our a bit-more-than-eccentric instructors? Are you actually going to be ready by the end of six months?"

Both men sat back to ponder for a few moments. "...it's goin' pretty well," Duo finally said, slowly, and Sam nodded, adding,

"Of course, nothing's perfect because nothing's ever perfect—we've had our fair share of mistakes, I'm sure you've heard from Sally about the injuries she's had to treat which thankfully have started to decline, there've been a couple of 'oh shit' moments where we honestly _weren't_ sure we'd be ready by the end of six months—"

"But these people have been provin' us wrong time and time again," Duo finished. "They honestly _want_ ta be a part of this, just not for the pay or the thrill. We've have our own scary moments, ourselves, wonderin' if _we_ would make it through this because we've heard the complaints about the trainin' and even made them ourselves...but again, they've declined now that we're really gettin' into this."

"They're starting to get used to the fact that this is what they're going to have to go through to be a part of this," Sam told her. "Everyone has gotten stronger, faster, smarter...not that they all weren't before, but now they're taking it to the level it needs to be for this to be the division you want it to be."

Une smiled. "Good. So I'm guessing that means there aren't any real issues with the instructors?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "Anyone who doesn't have issues with those people is crazy. But we're dealin' with it. Sam and I still have yet ta discover where Noin keeps her cameras. Dorothy scares the shit out of everyone and has great fun doin' it. The Scientists are crotchety old men who see machines rather than humans and scare the shit out of everyone again. Howard could be speakin' tongues for all these people understand his lessons about mechanics. But we're dealin' with it."

"We really are," Sam said quickly, seeing the skepticism on Une's face. "Lady Une, you have to remember, a lot of these people are soldiers or have at least been partially trained as soldiers. You don't do that kind of thing without becoming used to insanity—a lot of them are barely fazed by Dorothy and the Scientists anymore. Noin's sole goal in life seems to be to torment _solely _us. And Howard...well, he's gotten better. Plus Noin, Dorothy, and Duo have been translating his lectures into useable English," he grinned.

"Basically we're one big ragged jigsaw puzzle," Duo commented. "We don't fix together the best but we'll figure it out eventually. Plus whoever said perfection was good?" he asked rhetorically.

A fleeting shadow crossed over his face at the implications of that statement but quickly vanished.

Anddddd there was the scary shark smile. "Well, since everything seems to be going so well," Une said slowly. "I'm sure you boys wouldn't mind taking time out of your busy schedules to give me a detailed progress report for each recruit so I can update their files?"

They groaned, she smirked, and they settled down for a long, long afternoon of filing paperwork.

* * *

Une left with the promise to return in a couple more weeks to again check their progress, and a set of approximately fifty newly updated files.

Duo and Sam were left with that scary promise and some exceedingly sore hands from writing and typing, but the knowledge of just how far they and every single person in the division had come in just under two months.

Of course, later that week, when they were all sprinting for their lives from the explosives room where one of the less...explosively-inclined recruits had managed to set a bomb to _explode_ rather than _defuse, _or when Scott Johanning managed to shatter a target pretty much to pieces with bullets and _still_ not hit any fatal spots, or when Sophia McDonald somehow managed to twist into what should have been an anatomically impossible position while trying to perform a roundhouse kick, theyconceded that they might have just quite a bit farther to go.

But, as the second month came to a close, and Haley Beckett lasted against Duo in a hand-to-hand fight for 8 minutes 36 seconds—which, as he told her, was a full 36 seconds longer than anyone ever lasted (even the other pilots, though he didn't mention that)—and Caleb Adara managed to spin on the fly and pin the tail end of Duo's braid to the wall with a well-aimed knife while only managing to split hairs, thoroughly surprising the man who had still been a good eighteen feet away attempting to sneak up on him, and many other recruits kept shocking their commanders and trainers over and over again, they realized it might not be quite as far as they thought.

...only four months to go.

* * *

**MONTH THREE**

**

* * *

**

The third month began, and Duo and Sam breathed a sigh of relief that it began with relatively little chaos—at least, as little chaos as could be associated with the training of a top secret black ops division. The first week passed...and then the second...and everything was going so perfectly well that all of the trainers were starting to become more paranoid than usual, waiting for _something_ to happen.

Just..._something_.

* * *

"All right, everybody—remember the golden rule of this class; "Ask me no questions and I'll tell ya no lies." Once ya pass out of this room these are _your_ skills, we have absolutely nothin' ta do with them and if anyone asks, ya don't remember where ya got them. If anyone asks Une she will say, "I have no idea." I know nothin'. You know nothin'. Well, you know somethin', but we have nothin' ta do with it—"

"Duo, I think they get the idea. Get to the point."

"I'm _gettin'_ there, Tahary. _Anyways_; welcome one, welcome all, ta hackin' 101. Ya didn't just hear me say that. Tahary, take a seat, you're a student in this too unfortunately."

"Unfortunately I am," Sam replied resignedly, and took a seat next to one Stacey Letterman in the front row. "Please don't be like Howard, Duo; speak recognizable English, yeah?"

Duo rolled his eyes as the group of recruits snickered. "I will do my best ta reduce myself ta your plebeian level, _Samuel_."

The glare and promise of a painful, torturous death conveyed solely through Sam's eyes—and some rather crude hand signs—was so worth it.

"All right, first off, basic hackin' terminology...what, ya thought you'd be hackin' Preventer's core computer on the first day? Ya have ta start somewhere, and the basics are it. Any of ya have any hackin' experience? C'mon don't be shy, no one here's gonna tell...really? Wow. Goody-goody two shoes, we have...all right. As black ops, you're likely goin' ta have use hackin' in a lot of different situations...gettin' info that you're sent ta retrieve, destroyin' computer systems, getting' into and out of places...like if ya get captured and they're idiotic enough ta use electronic number pad locks...but honestly, that's only if you're _really_ lucky."

* * *

"Helix this is Shinigami, do ya copy? Over"

"Shinigami this is Helix; I read you loud and clear. Over."

"Right Helix, open her up."

Sam grinned and flicked the button on the radio to the first setting. "All right, Beta Team this is Alpha Team; you're clear to go. Confuse the hell out of us, people."

Duo sighed as he leaned back to listen to the chatter that began to echo over the radio waves. This was the eighth one of these they'd done in the last hour; communications tests. Each dorm room was set the challenge to come up with their own chatter language and use it in a conversation with the trainers listening in and trying to crack it; at the end of it each member of the team would have to translate the conversation on their own and the translations would have to be basically the same.

"Beta Team this is Angel; I'm skating the rails in paradise. Trajectory?"

"Angel this is Vixen; trajectory to paradise—Pluto."

"Angel this is Janus; trajectory to paradise—Noctilucent."

Duo blinked. Noctilucent—what the hell? Across the base, Sam did the same. In fact, what the _hell _was this _entire conversation?_

"Angel this is Scamp; trajectory to Paradise—Vigilant."

"Angel this is Muse; trajectory to Paradise—Lassitude."

"Scatter the skies; break the walls. Stay."

Duo chose that moment to break in. "Beta, you're good; all of ya, write down your translations and get them ta us, then please explain_ what the hell just happened_."

Laughter broke over the line, Lily Tanner's giggles the loudest of them all, and Duo reaffirmed his earlier determination; that woman was _evil._

But damn, they were _good_, he reflected later as he looked over the matching translations of the conversation; vagueness and opposites, always a good combination. And evidentially noctilucent referred to a type of cloud.

Who knew?

* * *

The third week began, and with it came an incident that in all honesty had been a long time coming—or to be more accurate, not the incident itself but the realization it caused.

No one was quite sure what happened, but someone said something and another said something back and before anyone knew what was going on it has escalated into a full out brawl between two of the recruits on the atrium floor.

Duo had just happened to be passing by when he heard the noise, and upon bursting into the atrium found a ragged ring of recruits surround two brawling figures on the floor.

"OI!" he barked, putting as much menace into it as he could. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE?"

The ring broke and scattered, leaving the two fighters to swiftly disentangle themselves, though not without throwing a few more insults and one or two jabs of fists to ribs.

Duo literally _stalked_ into the middle of the group of people to stand directly between the two combatants, in full Shinigami mode and completely aware of how much he was scaring them. His glare was as cold as ice, his voice when he spoke absolutely frigid.

"Arthur Finn," he hissed, glaring at the other man who immediately looked down at the floor, flushing to the tips of his ears, a rather ugly contrast with his blonde hair. "And Caleb Adara," he hissed again, even more darkly if that was even possible. Both men were look rather roughed up, with several marks that were sure to blossom into nasty bruises, though as far as he could tell nothing was broken, which he counted as a blessing considering the training they had; he was lucky they hadn't actually killed each other before he stepped in.

"Mind telling me just what exactly—actually, you know what, don't tell me. I can already tell it was something _stupid_. I would, however, like you to tell me what possessed you to brawl it out in the middle of the atrium like _barbarians_ rather than acting like the civilized human beings you are, the _black ops agents in training_ that you are. Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"No sir," Arthur murmured. "I apologize for allowing it to get out of hand."

"I apologize as well," Caleb murmured. "It won't happen again."

"You're _damn right_ it won't," Duo snarled. "I have half a mind to...never mind. I'm not actually going to do it. But _really_ you two—Arthur, I don't know you that well, but I remember you as level headed, calm, and rational, if nothing else. Caleb—"

He shook his head. "I expect much, much better of you Caleb. Is this not the second chance you were looking for? This is just the kind of thing that _destroys_ second chances. You're damn lucky I've had the chance to get to know you over the last few months or you might have just destroyed yours for good."

Caleb hung his head. He was well aware of that fact. This type of idiocy is just what had gotten him demoted in his earlier Preventer's days and kept him from moving back up again. He had been so, _so_ determined not to let it happen again. He wanted to prove that he was worthy of the second chance Duo and Sam had given him.

Lily Tanner was watching from the small crowd that had not dispersed yet, and she frowned as she watched the scene in front of her. Yes, the two men had been idiots, fighting over something inane that she honestly already couldn't even remember. But somehow...this went deeper than that. She could tell.

"Duo," she said softly, stepping forward, wincing internally as he turned that ice cold gaze on her. She made a mental note to never, _ever_ piss him off.

"Tanner," he said coolly.

"With all due respect, sir," she said, gulping slightly as she took the metaphorical plunge. "Yes, what they did is inexcusable...however, they cannot really be blamed for it. Sir, we've been down here for over two months. Like you said, yes there have been letters, phone calls, emails, vid calls...but we've been trapped in an essentially confined area with the same people for an extended amount of time, and that's not even counting the fact that all of us are naturally high strung. I think this is just a prime example of all that tension exploding. Again, with all due respect...we need a break, sir."

Duo blinked—and blinked again. Then slumped as all the fire and anger abruptly went out of him.

"_Fuck_," he swore. "We are such fuckin' _idiots."_

He looked back up abruptly. "All right, all of ya, get out of here. Go do...somethin'. You two—" He pointed at Caleb and Arthur. "Go topside and get Sally ta look ya over, and then _stay_ there until I come ta get ya. I am goin' ta go have a _talk_ with my esteemed colleagues."

They were gone faster than you could say "Shinigami is a'coming."

* * *

Sam was flopped on his bunk, reading a graphic novel, when Duo burst in. He sat bolt upright, nearly slamming his head against the bunk above him, as the door abruptly hit the wall with a _crack_.

"Duo, what—"

He was cut off as the other man grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him off of the bed and out into the hall, without a word. He, of course, struggled.

"Duo, what the hell are you doing? Where are we going?"

"Ta have a talk with Noin, Dorothy, Howard, and the Scientists. Sam, we've been absolute _idiots."_

"Okay, we've been idiots. Now can you please let go of my wrist and explain exactly _why _we've been idiots."

Duo shook his head, but let go of his wrist. "In a minute. You grab the Scientists," he told Sam, and shove him unceremoniously towards the door of the office they had just passed—the office the Scientists had claimed a couple of weeks earlier—Sam stumbling and then blinking at the door.

He knocked, and after hearing the voice of J telling him to come in poked his head through the doorframe.

"Tahary?" S asked, being the one closest to the door.

"Meeting in our office," Sam told them. "Dunno what it's about, but according to Duo we've been 'idiots.'"

He backed out after being sure that they were going to follow, though G was muttering something that sounded particularly like he was going to perform some rather violent and inappropriate acts with Duo's braid.

Duo had apparently already grabbed Dorothy and Noin from their office—again only recently claimed—because they were already in Duo and Sam's office when Sam got there, the scientists trailing behind. Howard had joined them at some point, probably from the communications room.

"All right, Duo," Sam said exasperatedly, flopping into one of the chairs—as far from the Scientists as he could get, of course. "Now that we're all here, will you please explain your suddenly lowered opinion of our intelligence?"

"Yes, 02, please explain," J said darkly, waving his prosthetic arm threateningly.

Duo leveled them all with a perfectly calm stare. "I have just come from the atrium, where I just finished reaming out one Arthur Finn and Caleb Adara for getting into an all-out fistfight brawl in the middle of the floor."

"What?" Noin exclaimed.

"Exactly my reaction when I saw what was happening," Duo told her. "I, of course, proceeded to thoroughly chastise them, and was really just getting ready to go into the riot act when Lily Tanner, one of the spectators, brought up an interesting point, at which point I sent everyone on their way, sent the two idiots up to Sally to get looked over and told them to stay there until I go up, and headed here. Lily's point, while it doesn't excuse what happened, is so true it's almost painful; Sam, Noin, Dorothy, Howard, Scientists...we've been down here for over two months."

He paused, and then sighed at the looks of confusion he was getting. "_Two months_," he emphasized again. "Two months living below ground, going through grueling training, limited contact with the outside world, and _none_ of us have seen daylight for at least that long. Everything's finally reached a boiling point, and this brawl was only the tip of the iceberg. We need to let them out; a day, maybe two, but they need out. Hell, _I _need out. There's only so long a person can go before they start going absolutely stir crazy."

The room was silent in the face of sudden realization.

"...damn, you're right, Duo," Noin finally said. "We _have_ been idiots."

Dorothy cocked her head. "So it really isn't my fault, Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Tahary, that I've had more urges to squash the recruits like insects in the last few weeks than I normally do?" she asked, perfectly innocent.

Sam looked slightly green. "Yeah, Dorothy, I suppose it isn't," he said faintly, while mentally smacking himself. Noin was right—they _were_ idiots!

"I haven't been helping, have I?" Howard asked, and elaborated when Duo looked at him in confusion. "Duo. Hawaiian shirts. Sunglasses. Stories about space and everything. Reminding them of everything they _don't _have right now."

Duo nodded, making a noncommittal noise. "True, true..." he muttered.

G, however, was grinning rather scarily, along with the rest of scientists. "We were wondering when you were going to realize this, 02, Tahary," he commented, and grinned even wider when Duo's head snapped up.

"Ya bastards!" Duo snapped. "Ya knew!"

H rolled his eyes. "Of course, 02, it's not that hard to see," he told him exasperatedly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam asked them, not really angry, just curious.

"It's your job to _know_ these things, Tahary," J told him. "We're just here as trainers. After these six months, we'll likely vanish back into relative obscurity again and go back to our lives of experimenting and inventing and staying out of the public eye. You, however, are going to be the commanders of this division; you have to know what makes your recruits tick, you have to know how much they can take, you have to know when they've had enough, and you have to be able to deal with it. So the question is—and no one help them here—what _are_ you going to do about it?"

Both Duo and Sam sunk back, pondering, while the others watched. And they both came to the same conclusion, pretty much at the same time.

"Day off," they said, simultaneously. Duo elaborated first. "For a day, maybe two, no holds barred—we just let them out. Everyone go topside—not all fifty at once, of course—and just let them go."

"We can't give them all enough time to go home, of course," Sam added. "A lot of them live across the world or in the colonies. But we can give them time to go out, see the sun and get fresh air again, go shopping, eat something other than the almost-hospital-like fare we serve, dress in normal clothes, get exercise that isn't regimented, get a couple of drinks—if anyone comes back drunk, they'll get smacked, see family and friends if they live in or near Sanq—etc., etc., etc." he trailed off.

Duo nodded. "Basically, we give them time ta forget about what they're becomin' for just a bit."

G nodded and gave them a brief clap of his hands. "Very good 02, Tahary. You do have some brains in your thick skulls."

They wisely didn't comment on that insult.

"It's Thursday, right?" Noin asked, looking contemplatively at the ceiling. "How about we tell them tomorrow, give them time in the communications center to contact any friends and family that may be in town, and then give them Saturday and Sunday off?"

"That's perfect," Sam nodded in agreement.

"One exception, though," Duo added, and rolled his eyes at the looks of confusion. "Finn and Adara. Yeah, they may have been the catalyst that made us realize our idiocy, but they steal have ta deal with the consequences. I say they have ta wait another two weeks before they can head topside for a break, and they only get one day instead of two."

"That works," Noin told him. "And before we forget, let's make this a monthly thing, even after training is done; weekend off once a month. During training, it will be everyone on the same weekend, but once we go live we should let them choose one weekend a month to take off. Any other vacations than that can just go through normal Preventer's process."

"Right," Duo said, standing and stretching his hands above his head. "Well, now that we've got that settled, I've got two brawlin' idiots ta go with. Sam, ya comin'?"

"Sure, Duo," Sam replied, standing as well to follow the braided man.

"See you all later," they tossed over their shoulders in chorus, and vanished from the office, leaving behind three contemplative adults and five contemplative geezers.

"Do you really think they can do this?" Noin asked softly.

G snorted. "Even if they can't, they will anyways. 02 is tenacious like that, and so is Tahary, as we're discovering."

"Kid'll make it through anything," Howard agreed. "And pull along his friends for the ride."

"They're doing the best they can," Dorothy said in a rare moment of seriousness. "And that's really...all we can ask of them, is it not?"

* * *

Needless to say, Arthur and Caleb were not happy when Duo and Sam told them what would be happening—after swearing them to secrecy of course, since the rest of the division would be finding out about the break the day after—but they were resigned to their fate; they _had_ been idiots. And that wasn't even counting the lecture they got from _Sally _for their idiocy.

"Really, you two, what the hell were you _thinking_? I can't be patching up your scrapes and bruises from your testosterone fueled battles all the time; what are you going to do in three months when you're black-ops agents and you're coming into me with broken bones and internal bleeding and concussions and organ damage and what have you? Let's put it this way—if I see you up here _any time_ in the next few months unless it's legitimate damage taken from training, I will _personally_ see to it that you undergo a _full physical_ exam, and I'll throw in another psych evaluation just for kicks. Now get your asses back down there and don't let me see them again unless you're dead or dying; even better, _don't _let me see them again. I don't _want_ to see your scrawny asses."

And so they left feeling like tiny, chastised children, followed by their snickering commanders—and felt even more like shit the next day when the break was announced to the cheering mess hall, and for the rest of the day as everyone chattered around them and still managed to work twice as hard as usual.

* * *

The third Saturday of the third month saw a sight that had not been seen in just under three months—people emerging from the depths of the base in casual clothes and with bright grins on their faces. Slowly, in small, fluctuating groups, they took the long awaited ride in the elevator to topside.

Duo and Sam were in the last group out, having waited for everyone else to go out to make sure everything went off without a hitch—like no one getting suspicious about the groups of people emerging from the elevator, people that hadn't been seen in months. Thankfully Une was topside, having been informed of the impending influx of people, steering people away from that particular elevator. (She put out-of-order signs on it on every floor except the one her office was on.)

Duo and Sam were both practically bouncing with excitement as the elevator slowly—or at least, slowly to them—began to ascend towards the surface. Duo was the only one who had been up at all in the last few months, and that was only the one time he snuck up to steal the map.

The doors opened with the same anti-climatic _ding_, and they both doubled over in laughter.

"Hi Lady Une bye Lady Une!" they chorused as they bounced past the bun-haired woman almost faster than she could see.

Lady Une just blinked. "Duo!" she called after him, but she was too late—they were already gone. She sighed before turning to head back to her office—she wasn't even going to try.

* * *

"Ah, Conference Room 1-C," Duo sighed as they passed by the aforementioned room. "Such fond memories we have..."

"Very fond," Sam added, snickering. "So, what do you want to do with our few days of freedom?"

"Well, how about first we check your apartment ta make sure ya haven't been robbed or evicted, and then we go out and get a couple of drinks ta celebrate the fact that we're almost halfway there?"

Sam blinked. He had honestly completely forgotten about his apartment, craphole that it was. "Good idea," he replied, mentally calculating overdue rent. _Shit_.

Duo snickered. "Ya forgot, didn't ya?" he teased.

"I...no...yes, I did, now stop laughing you bastard, I have three month's rent to figure out how to pay!"

"Sorry, sorry...but, only you, Tahary_, only you._"

"Shut _up!"_

_

* * *

_

After spending five minutes acting like dumbstruck idiots in front of the building, staring at trees and sunlight—damn it really had been a long time—and cars and actual _people_ like morons, and Duo's hiss of,

"How can we be _black ops_ when it's turnin' us into fuckin' _albinos_, yeah?" when met with sunlight for the first time in several months and being forced to shield their eyes and back into the building for several minutes, they managed to catch a cab to Sam's apartment.

Sam proceeded to practically prostrate himself in front of his landlord with apologies, begging for a second chance and promising all the rent by the end of the week, only to have the extremely amused woman inform him that he hadn't missed a single payment.

Evidentially all of the recruits and the trainers—even Howard, Dorothy, Duo, and the Scientists—were being paid normal Preventer's salaries for their positions even while they were underground training, and Une had taken the liberty of shunting parts of those salaries each month to pay the rents of the several people who owned apartments and had likely forgotten about them.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief while silently cursing the name of Une, sadist that she was.

"So, alcohol?" Duo asked him as they walked away from the apartment building.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "_Alcohol."_

Damn two in the afternoon.

* * *

Apparently a bunch of the recruits had the same idea, because when they arrived at their usual bar—the one they had taken to frequenting in the month or two it took to get everything organized before they headed underground—they saw about ten of their people, already drinking and having a grand time.

"Duo! Sam!" a voice yelled at them, and the turned to see Noin waving at them from a seat at the bar. They picked their way across the bar, surprisingly full for two in the afternoon, carefully avoiding some of the more wild dancers, and took up seats next to her.

"Hey Noin!" Duo said cheerfully as he raised a hand to call the bartender over. "Had the same idea, looks like?"

The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "Who didn't? Damn, if there's one thing I've missed these last few months, it's a nice, cold beer after a long, tiring day."

"Amen to that," Sam replied, toasting an imaginary glass that quickly became reality as the bartender slid two glasses down the bar towards him and Duo. "It's been a _long_ three months."

"_Way_ long," Duo agreed, easily tossing back his drink. "Too bad one of our own stipulations on this jaunt was no gettin' drunk; I _really_ want ta get sloshed right about now."

Noin reached out to pat his head like a condescending adult would a small child. "Poor baby. Price you pay for being responsible, though. Luckily for me, unlike you—or so I've heard—I can hold my liquor, so iI can get pleasantly buzzed off the amount of alcohol that would have you shrieking in pain the morning after."

"Screw ya, Noin," Duo said, rolling his eyes as he drank a second glass.

Sam smirked at him. "Have you already forgotten our first drunken foray, Duo?" he asked as he too downed his second drink. "I seem to remember that cowering beneath a table was involved..."

"Shut it, Tahary."

They fell silent and spent several minutes in companionable silence—as companionable as you could be in an extremely loud bar, anyways—and sat nursing their third drink.

It was, however, as he finished his third that Duo looked up suddenly and said, "We need a toast."

Sam looked up and blinked. "What?" he asked in confusion, and on his other side, Noin looked just as confused.

"A toast, ya morons! Noin, how many of our people are here?"

"Nine," she told him. "I kept count just in case someone _does_ get drunk."

Duo stood and turned in a circle, obviously looking for someone. "Sasha!" he yelled after a moment, and across the bar Sasha Trafalgar looked up in confusion, before her eyes came to rest upon Duo and lit up.

"Yeah?" she called back.

"Find all of ours—there're nine—and bring them over here! We're havin' a toast!"

"All right!" Sasha yelled, and vanished into the crowd to search for the other recruits.

Duo turned back to the bar and hailed down the bartender. "We need...twelve of your cheapest alcohol," he told him, and let him go when he nodded. "Can't afford any more than that," he told Sam and Noin when they raised eyebrows at him. "Plus don't want him ta think I'm a drunkard or anythin'."

They rolled their eyes, and settled down to wait. About ten minutes later, after the drinks had already been delivered, Sasha materialized out of the crowd, dragging eight others after her.

"Here they are!" she chirruped, and Duo beamed.

"Great!" he crowed, leaping to his feet. "Everyone, gather round, grab a drink; we're havin' a toast!"

A muted cheer went up and everyone crowded forward to grab one of the glasses; once he was sure everyone had one, Duo raised his hand and they all fell quiet, a small orb of silence in the middle of the insanity of the bar.

"Sam, get your ass up here, you're doin' this thing too," Duo told the other man and waited as he scrambled up to stand beside him.

He raised his glass solemnly.

"Three months ago, we all descended into what one would perhaps call,_ '_the depths of hell.' Ta the ninth circle, some would say. And we'd say right back—"Only the ninth? I'm ashamed ya think so lowly of us!"

Laughter echoed throughout the small circle.

"We've all suffered a lot of pain and frustration over the last few months, and some just couldn't do it."

The memory of Robert Hewitt floated into the spaces between words for a moment, and the silence turned heavy, briefly. Duo glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eyes and gestured minutely with his glass; his turn at the plate. Sam pondered for a moment before he began to speak.

"But here we are, three months later, stronger, faster, wiser; all around better people, maybe not in the best of ways but hey, it's what we've decided to do. We may still have three months to go, three more long, grueling months, but we can stand here today and proudly say we've made it halfway, and we're not giving up until we make it to the end!"

"So...here's ta us and our division—"

"—whatever the hell you decide to call it!" Noin called out, and Duo laughed and nodded at her.

"Let's turn the world on their heads—in three months of course!" Duo finished, and raised his glass to the ceiling.

Their cheer echoed around the bar and there were a few minutes of helpless confusion as everyone tried to touch glasses with everyone else. Duo found himself squashed, wide-eyed, between a laughing Sasha and Sophia, for a few scary moments before he was shoved forward and barely managed to save himself from an unsavory meeting with the bar. He couldn't stop the almost scarily wide grin from spreading across his face as he watched the chaos.

His smile fell for a moment as he remembered the last time he had done this—with the pilots, right after Mariemaia, all of them just barely 18 and so barely legal to drink in Sanq. Even, Heero still recovering from his gunshot wound, had joined them—they were all just so damned happy they didn't have to fight anymore.

That was the first time he had gotten drunk—and he remembered everything that happened that night, despite what they thought.

_Despite what they thought...I am no fool._

A hand on his shoulder drew him out of his melancholy thoughts, and he looked up to see Sam looking at him with a concerned look in his eyes.

"You okay, Duo?" he asked.

Duo nodded. "I'm fine," he replied, before resolutely turning to look at the people surrounding him.

He saw Steven and Lily laughing over a drink at the bar, smiles bright. He saw Sophia and Haley laughing and giggling at Nick, Garrett and Scott, who appeared to be engaged in some sort of game to balance a shot glass on their nose, while Sasha and Sara were talking with Noin.

These people, along with all the others, were his friends now; these were the people he could depend on, would fight with, would die with.

_Not them. They had their chance._

Duo shared a look with Sam, a secret smile that spoke of their own strange bemusement at this whole situation. Both of them, looking back—whoever would have thought this was where'd they be right now?

But for some reason, they felt really good about themselves. Somehow, despite both of them being practically kids, one of them a soldier from fifteen and on his own for as long as he could remember, one a desk jockey who had never really done anything worth anything in his life—both running an almost black ops division full of fifty people almost as crazy and almost all of them older than they were—despite everything, they were thriving. Somehow, this was working.

It was a really, really good feeling.

* * *

..._damn._ -stares- Is it over? Is it really, _truly_ OVER? -dancesanddies-

...so, I hope you're all happy. After five months of no inspiration and my damned muse catching a plane to _Sweden_ or something, this chapter surviving on sentences, sometimes words, a week, I finally sat down and busted my ass for, I think, four days straight, to get this out to you. Unfortunately, as you can see, here we have what one would call "half the enchilada." Three months...and it _still_ turned into this 39 page, 16,459 (18,131 according to FF) word_ monstrosity._ I am _not_ going to reiterate what my profile says quite clearly.

_**CHECK MY PROFILE. I PUT EVERYTHING THERE. EV. ER. Y. THING.**_ Capsbolditalicsunderline—have I made my point? Good.

Mmhmm. So here we have THE TRAINING, PART ONE. Humor, pain, more humor, more pain, and a good dose of serious to balance it all out. I hope this was good for a few giggles; I most certainly hope it was worth the wait, and I can't _believe_ I haven't bloody well _apologized _yet. I am so, so sorry it took me five months. Words cannot describe the guilt that caused. But...what's done is done is done and can't be undone, the chapter is here now and we're moving forward. My good news, and my present to you all for being absolute _saints_, is this tidbit;

Outline, baby. The entirety of _SOY_ is now outlined in an approximately 3-4 page document on my flash drive. My real gift, however, is this—the pilots will officially appear in "Unrecognizable."

...what chapter that is, however, you'll just have to wait and see. ^^ (I can imagine the face plants now...) _But, _they do have a brief cameo in this chapter, for one sentence—can you find it?

The only scene I really feel needs explanation here—ask any questions you have, though—is the scene with the radio code. Translation:

Angel is Lily, Vixen is Sasha, Janus is Garrett, Scamp is Sophie, Muse is Nick. Basically, everything is vague and the exact opposite of what they're saying. Lily is sneaking around the restrooms. 'Trajectory' just refers to position. "Pluto" means she's in the atrium, "noctilucent" means he's on the lowest floor, "vigilant" means she's in the dorms, and "lassitude" means he's in the rec room. "Scatter the skies" means meet up, "break the walls" means take the most roundabout route, and "stay" means go or come. If you want to know _why_ they mean these things, go ahead and ask.

Special shout-out to MorganxGarcia just for sheer awesomeness! If you like Criminal Minds—go read her stuff! PASTA!

Here's hoping to see you in the next few weeks with the next chapter, 'I See the Light'—ciao!

—Erin


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